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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26059195">The Nasty Nine</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lt_BC/pseuds/Lt_BC'>Lt_BC</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Slipknot (Band)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Aftercare, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Author Is Sleep Deprived, Banter, Blow Jobs, Chris Fucks Around With Everyone, Collars, Come Eating, Corey Eats Ass, Crossdressing, Dirty Talk, Dom/sub Undertones, Drugs, Hand Jobs, Improvised Sex Toys, Kissing, M/M, Masks, Masochism, Nipple Piercings, No Aftercare, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Overstimulation, Papa Shawn Beats People, Passing Out, Pet Names, Punishment, Sex Toys, Sleepy Cuddles, Spit As Lube, Tattoos, Threesome - M/M/M, Topping from the Bottom, Vomiting, Yeah Just Corey getting Fucking Wreaked, basically Mick is a mean Motherfucker and Chris has to take it, baths, dick piercings, im not tagging all of them, im so sorry chrissy, sid sucks dick in the back of a van lmao, you get the point</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-08-23</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-12-14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 11:08:28</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>34,668</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26059195</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lt_BC/pseuds/Lt_BC</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>[ Warning: This is a spin-off of my 'Slipknot Shorts', but much nastier. I'm going to write whatever comes into my dirty mind; anything goes. I take requests, don't feel ashamed to request something weird or nasty. If you want Wholesome shit go to my other Slipknot works. Don't Like It Don't Read ;) And no Disrespect to any of them, I'm just a fucking werido]</p><p>Chapters:<br/>One - Chrissy Fucked Up [Chris &amp; Clown]<br/>Two - Good Doggie [Joey &amp; Corey]<br/>Three - Brat [Joey &amp; Corey &amp; Mick]<br/>Four - Acid Eyes [Sid &amp; Chris]<br/>Five - Bath Time [Sid &amp; Shawn]<br/>Six - Burn [Chris &amp; Mick]<br/>Seven - Chris is a Whore [Chris &amp; Everyone]<br/>Eight - Chris is a Whore [Part 2.]<br/>Nine - Paulie's Piercings [Paul &amp; Corey]<br/>Ten - Broken &amp; Bruised [Paul &amp; Chris] [MOVED]<br/>Eleven - Ecstasy [Sid &amp; Shawn]<br/>Twelve - So, you wanna be in the band? [Sid &amp; Shawn]</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Chris Fehn/Everyone - Relationship, Chris Fehn/Mick Thomson, Chris Fehn/Paul Gray, Chris Fehn/Sid Wilson, Corey Taylor/Mick Thomson, Joey Jordison/Corey Taylor, Joey Jordison/Corey Taylor/Mick Thomson, Joey Jordison/Mick Thomson, Paul Gray/Corey Taylor, Shawn Crahan/Chris Fehn, Shawn Crahan/Sid Wilson</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>86</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>108</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chrissy Fucked Up [Chris & Shawn]</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Enjoy ;)</p>
    </blockquote><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Chrissy pays for his fuck up</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Chris fucked up. No not a major fuck up. He didn’t kill someone or accidentally sodomize a horse, but he still messed up and he knew he was gonna pay for it. </p><p>He had escaped the stage as quickly as possible, rushing to a green room so he did have to face the wrath of his bandmates right away. He stripped off his mask and hood, face paint smeared over parts of his still sweaty face. His hair fell down over his shoulders, which he ran his finger threw a few times to try and comb out some of the tangles. Chris had calmed down a bit, the tight ball of anxiety nest in his stomach hasn’t gotten any smaller, but he had come to accept his fate. </p><p>It was right then he heard the green room door creak open, someone stepping in before locking it behind them. And Chris realized he wasn’t as calm as he thought he was three seconds ago, eyes wide and shoulders shaking. He didn’t dare turn to see who had entered the room, though he could tell it was one of his bandmates. Chris yelped when he was slammed against a wall, one arm twisted up behind him back in a near painful angle. He could feel a broad chest pressing to his back, pinning him to a wall, heavy breathing in his ear. Chris shook, his cheek pressing to the wall, his eyes were screwed shut, he knew who was pinning him to the wall. </p><p><em> “You </em> <b> <em>Fucked </em> </b> <em> up, Chrissy.” </em> A growl in his ear made his whimper. </p><p><em> “You made everyone else Fuck up, Chrissy, you already know you’re going to have to pay for it, Don’t you?” </em>It wasn’t really a question. Chris knew that. Chris felt like disappearing into the wall, but much to his dismay he stayed right where he was. </p><p><em> “Look at me, Chrissy.” </em> Chris reluctantly opened his eyes, because of the angle fo his head he could see the Clown. The man was still in his full stage gear, mask and all. Chris made another small scared sound when he met the Clown’s eyes, Chris’s eyes darting away an instant. Chris yelped again when his arm was twisted further. </p><p><em> “I said, </em> <b> <em>Look at me.</em> </b> <em> ” </em> Chris met the Clown’s eyes again. The Clown leaned in closer, so close his mask was nearly brushing against Chris’s face. <em> “You going to pay for your fuck up, Chrissy.” </em>Chris stumbled over his own legs when he was wrenched off the wall and thrown onto one of the green room couches. Laying on his stomach, not daring to move even if most of his limbs were at an uncomfortable angle. He could hear the Clown doing something, then a low dark chuckle that made all the hairs on Chris’s necks stand straight up. The clown straddled the back of Chris’s thighs, one of his hands on the small of Chris’s back as he let out another low chuckle. </p><p><em> “I just got a wonderful idea, Chrissy, What’d you think?” </em>Chris turned his head to the side do he could see what the Clown was holding. It was Chris’s mask, long phallic nose, and unzipped mouth almost smiling at him. He shivered, fingers digging into the fabric of the couch. He could tell Clown was grinning, an evil glint in his eyes. Chris’s face was blushing a deep red, he knew what Clown was planning and he couldn’t say he was excited. Chris felt a hand knot in his hair, making him arch his neck back. </p><p><em> “ ‘s what you deserve, </em> <b> <em>Whore</em> </b> <em> .” </em>Chris sniveled. Clown set the mask on the back of the couch before reaching under Chris to unzip his jumpsuit, practically ripping the thing off his upper half. Chris shivered, the jumpsuit was bunched around his hips now and Clown had knotted a hand back in his hair, the other tracing red lines down his back. Chris whimpered, he knew he couldn’t get out of this, but he still wanted to beg. Chris would have rather let Mick fuck his throat again than have his own mask fuck him, if not just to avoid the shame of the whole thing. </p><p>Chris felt Clown climb off his him, his coveralls being yanked down further. His only shield was a pair of boxers, which were much to Chris’s dismay also pulled down. Chris let out a yelp of surprise when a sharp blow was stung his flesh. A hand beginning to knead at the fat of his ass, the feeling prompting Chris to moan softly. Only for another sharp slap to follow. Tears pricking the corners of Chris’s eyes. </p><p>Clown pulled at Chris’s hips, Chris moving without a second thought so he was no longer laying flat-bellied on the couch, instead having hips propped upon his legs, knees digging into his belly, chest still pressed to the sofa. His new position granted the other man much easier access. Chris heard Clown spit repeatedly before letting out another low snicker. Chris presumed the other man’s spit was the only lube he was gonna get, not a big surprise. His face felt like it was melting off his skull when the calloused hands moved to expose his most intimate of places. The rubber texture of the spit-soaked nose of his mask pressed against his hole. Chris jolting forward a small bit, letting out a noise of distress. </p><p><em> “It’s either this or a baseball bat, Chrissy. </em> <b> <em>Stop Moving</em> </b> <em> .” </em> Clown’s voice dropped to a low growl, Chris’s stomach tying itself into knots. Chris’s body trembled as he tried to hold himself still, the nose of his mask penetrating him. Chris let out a long whine as the <em> thing </em>pushed further into his guts, the burn of his body stretching made tears prick his eyes. Clown electing to make the last few inches hell by bottoming out the mask with a quick jerk of his hand, making Chris whimper as he felt the base of the nose press flush against his ass. </p><p>Shame was radiating from Chris, Clown barely letting Chris’s body adjust before pulling the mask near all the way and ramming it back in repeatedly. Chris was babbling swears and pleas for Clown to slow, but he was offered no such reward. Clown locked his hand in Chris’s hair, pulling hard and making Chris’s neck arch back again, with drool dribbling down his chin as his mouth pleaded uselessly. </p><p>Clown continued to shove the mask’s nose in and out of Chris at a near breakneck pace, Chris growing louder and more desperate with each thrust. Clown was enjoying the show, untangling his fingers from Chris’s hair so he could move to grope himself through his jumpsuit. Chris’s head falling back to the couch, cheek resting against the cushions. Clown could see one lust clouded eye peering at him. Chris still whimpering as Clown buried the mask deep inside him and twisted to so its texture rubbed against Chris’s inner walls. Chris was babbling again, little breathy whispers cut short as Clown twisted the mask again making the man moan and thrash. </p><p>Clown unzipped his own jumpsuit, reaching in to pull out his cock. Chris was watching him, Clown locking eyes with Chris as he thrust into his own fist. Chris made a mewling sound as he tried to find any friction for himself, cock pressed his own belly by his folded legs. Then faster than Chris could process, Clown’s hand released the mask still buried in Chris, pushing the gasping man onto his side and wrapping a hand around his throat. Chris yelped and tried to choke out an apology as the fingers tightened around his neck. Chris’s eye-rolling into the back of his head as his hands scrambled weakly at Clown’s wrist. The other man was still pleasuring himself, grunting lowly as Chris struggled to breathe. </p><p>Clown tightening his fingers as he leaned in, Chris’s struggling becoming weaker, </p><p><em> “This is supposed to be a punishment, Chrissy, you’re not meant to enjoy it.” </em> Chris couldn’t look anywhere but into Clown’s eyes, they were predatory. Chris’s vision had black seeping in around the edges when Clown finally let go of his throat, Chris gasping for air. Coughing and gagging, body trembling as he tried to swallow down all the air he could. Clown tranced fingers down Chris’s still trembling body, back down to the mask still buried in him. Chris barley processed what Clown was doing until he felt the mask, <em> his mask, </em>start to fuck him again. His inner walls seemed to be a thousand times more sensitive than before. The tip of the nose dragging across his prostate and sending tendrils of pleasure rushing up to his still recovering brain. Chris couldn’t handle it, tears finally spilling down his face, chest heaving. He could hear Clown make a growling sound as he felt warm splash onto his side. Cum running down his shaking side. Clown chuckled, smearing some of the semen onto his finger and bringing it up to wipe across Chris’s cheek. Chris whimpering. </p><p>Suddenly the mask was pulled all the way out of Chris’s body, leaving him feeling shamefully empty. Chris was panting, mind almost fucked out enough to beg Clown to keep fucking him. The mask was tossed on to the couch next to Chris’s sticky belly. Clown had zipped up his own jumpsuit and was now crouching next to Chris’s pale sweaty face. </p><p><em> “You don’t deserve to cum, Chrissy, “ </em> Clown brushed some hair out of Chris’s face. <em> “After all, </em> <b> <em>you fucked up.</em> </b> <em> ” </em> Chris made a sound like an injured animal, Clown laughing as he left the green room. Chris stayed there, trying to collect himself. He knew if he didn’t at least clean himself up someone would find him like this. All fucked out, mind blurry and cock still painfully hard. But he still couldn’t stand, instead electing to curl in on himself and try to recover from his punishment. He knew that whenever he wore his mask he would be reminded of this, <em> and next time he wouldn’t fuck up.  </em> <b> <em>At least not on purpose. </em> </b></p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>[Sorry for any spelling/grammar mistakes]<br/>[ Feel free to Request Anything, Don't Feel Ashamed. ]</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Good Doggie [Corey & Joey]</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>This was a request,<br/>- Corey eats ass, I'm Sorry<br/>- Joey being his lovely topping from the bottom self<br/>- I wrote this at 3:17 in the morning and I don't regret it</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>“...Joey?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Joey… </span>
  <em>
    <span>please,”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Please </span>
  </em>
  <b>
    <em>what? </em>
  </b>
  <em>
    <span>Corey.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Joey…” </span>
  </em>
  <span>The drummer raised an eyebrow waiting for Corey to continue</span>
  <em>
    <span>. “Please let me fuck you, Jo, </span>
  </em>
  <b>
    <em>please</em>
  </b>
  <em>
    <span>, I’ve been good,” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Corey babbled as he nuzzled one of Joey’s fishnet-clad thighs. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Joey felt extremely pleased with himself, he had got the loud, brash, and confident frontman of Slipknot to grovel at his feet. Corey Mother Fucking Taylor to whimper and whine and plead for the other man to touch him. Joey could feel his face split into a small smirk. He reached down to pet Corey's fluffy reddish-gold hair, the other man still whispering pleas and compliments while nuzzling Joey's inner thighs. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Joey hadn’t intended for his day to end up like this, but now he was glad Corey had interrupted him trying on outfits for the Murderdolls. Corey had shown up knocking loudly at his door, causing the drummer to swear and drop his hairbrush at the unexpected intrusion. Joey had seen the look that flashed in Corey's eyes when the singer first saw him as he opened the door. The drummer had forgotten what he was wearing, until that look. The singer's face got a little red as he looked the smaller man up and down, only managing to sputter out a half baked response when he had been asked what he was doing here. Joey taking pity and allowing the singer in on the condition that he wouldn’t break anything. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Corey had watched him apply the rest of his makeup, Joey noticing how Corey’s already a bit red face got redder when he painted his own lips in dark colors. Joey put on an extra show to lean over his vanity a bit further so his black skirt rode up, just to see the look on Corey’s face. It didn’t disappoint. They had ended up all over each other, the dark lipstick smearing over Corey's face and neck. Joey ripped off the singer’s shirt to expose his tattooed chest.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When Joey pulled away, Corey looked like a kicked puppy, all big eyes and wet swollen lips. The drummer smirked as he ordered the frontman to stay put and close his eyes. The singer followed the order without a second thought. The smaller man retrieved something before returning to where Corey sat. Joey took a pale hand and tilted the singer’s face up towards him, the ladder’s eye still screwed shut. Then he encircled the thick leather around the singer's neck, making sure it was buckled properly so as to not be too tight. The blonde man whimpered, biting at his own lip, still not opening his eyes, hands gripping at the fabric of his pants. Joey ran his fingers all around the collar, wrapping the long leash around one of his own hands and pulling just a tad. The singer followed the leash and leaned forward into the shorter man’s chest. Joey looked pleased, raising a hand to pet at Corey’s hair. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Good Doggie,”</span>
  </em>
  <span> Corey blushed, a low moan escaping his throat. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Corey was still kneeling between Joey’s legs, one hand locked around the back of the drummer’s knee and the other running carefully up and down the drummer’s lower leg, sometimes pausing to play with the fishnets. The singer didn’t dare do anything more without Joey’s order, especially not with the thick leather collar still hitched around his throat. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Joey leaned down, hooking a few fingers under Corey’s collar and forcing his head up so they were almost nose to nose. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“You wanna fuck me Cor, is that what you want?” Corey made a pleading noise,</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Please, Jo, I want to feel you, I wanna be inside you, Ple-“Corey’s</span>
  </em>
  <span> voice pitched up as Joey dragged him even closer. Joey smirked, cutting off the man's begging by kissing him, deep and hard. Corey hands moving up to tug at Joey’s skirt, while the drummer locked a hand around the back of Corey's head. Joey purring into the other man’s mouth, Corey eagerly kissing the drummer, desperate for anything Joey was willing to let him have. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Joey snaked a hand into Corey’s soft hair, pulling the singer away from him. Corey’s eyes looked glazed and needy as he gasped for air. Joey growled,</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“If you’re gonna fuck me, </span>
  </em>
  <b>
    <em>you’re gonna have to earn it</em>
  </b>
  <em>
    <span>.” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Corey’s whole body lurched forward at Joey’s words, eyes so dilated the bright blue was nearly all gone, voice caught in a pitched groan. Joey giggled, an evil spark in his icy eyes. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Joey ordered Corey to get up on the bed, the singer quickly scrambling up and sitting by Joey like an overexcited dog. Joey was still smirking as he crawled up further onto the bed, knowing Corey was watching his every move. Kicking off his heavy leather boots, Joey sat with his legs folded under him, his back to Corey, leash still wrapped around one hand, long raven hair spilling over his shoulders and down his back, skirt settling around his pale legs. Joey took a few moments to unbutton his black shirt so his chest was exposed, though he didn’t remove the shirt entirely. Joey tugged at the leash, making Corey crawl up behind him. Joey only turned his head slightly before whispering, </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“You’re going to eat me out,”</span>
  </em>
  <span> Joey’s voice dropped an octave, </span>
  <em>
    <span>“</span>
  </em>
  <b>
    <em>Like the good little dog you are.”</em>
  </b>
  <span> Corey was panting and whimpering as Joey moved to get on all fours, the drummer loosening his grip on the leash so Corey didn’t accidentally strangle himself. Corey’s only slightly shaky hands touched the back of Joey’s thighs, growing in confidence as he moved up and slipped his hands under Joey’s skirt, flipping the fabric up and out of the way so he could stare at the drummer’s pale backside. Corey should have expected it, but he was still caught off guard by the fact Joey was wearing black lace panties, Corey’s face flushing deep red again. Joey growled that he’d better hurry up. Corey hurriedly pulled the fishnets down, in a normal scenario he would have ripped them right off, but not now, not with Joey.</span>
</p><p>
  <span> Now Corey was left staring again, only the pair of lace panties stopping him. He hooked two fingers around them dragging them down to fully expose the little drummer. Because of the way Joey was positioned, Corey could just see a glimpse of Joey’s hole, and he could feel his mouth fill with drool. The singer placed his hands on the smaller man’s ass squeezing at the fat a bit before spreading the pale cheeks apart. He could see the pretty pink hole fully now, Joey letting out a small moan as he felt Corey’s breath against him. Corey finally leaning in licking the smaller man’s entrance. Encouraged by the soft noises Joey was making he continued, licking and moaning against the tight hole. Getting bold, he breached it with just the tip of his tongue, thrusting deep as he felt Joey’s inner walls throb and pulsate around him. Corey was only slightly pleased with himself as he heard Joey moan when he wriggled his tongue inside the smaller man. Drawing back so he could catch his breath, a small smile gracing his lips. As if to remind him of his place, Joey yanked on the leash, making Corey’s face press back to the drummer’s ass, Corey face scruff rubbing against the sensitive skin. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Corey’s arms were locked around the drummer’s porcelain thighs as he continued his work. Taking great pride every time he made Joey moan or cry out, though not daring to stop for a second save for when he needed to breathe. Corey was so focused on making Joey feel good he barely registered his own hips bucking and rolling of their own accord. His own arousal still trapped within the confines of his jeans searching for any type of friction. Then he felt a hard tug at the leash that made his eyes roll into the back of his head, Joey ordering him with a trembling voice to stop. Corey reluctantly pulled away to admire his work. The pink hole was slippery with drool, tensing, and untensensing at the absence of Corey’s tongue, it was still as pretty, if not slightly less tight than before. It made Corey want to defy Joey’s order and defile the smaller man again, which he almost did. Corey only started to realize his own state as he watched the little drummer recover.  Letting out a long whine. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Joey had to admit Corey had a fantastic mouth, he hadn’t expected the singer to be that good. Joey could sense Corey shifting uncomfortably, hearing the man let out a whine. Joey’s brain was still a bit fuzzy, but he figured it was time for Corey to get his reward. Joey collapsed onto his side, meeting Corey’s still very dilated eyes. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“You-,” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Joey sucked in another shallow breath of air, </span>
  <em>
    <span>“You earned it. Now, take off your fucking pants.” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Corey's body first flooding with joy at the implied compliment then with need as he registered Joey’s order. Corey unbuckled his belt and tugged his jeans off, feeling Joey’s eyes follow his every move. Corey was left in his boxers now, a very obvious tent in the front which he didn’t even bother trying to hide. Joey’s hand tightened around the leash, a smirk on his face.  Joey motioned for Corey to fully remove the fishnets that were still tangled around Joey’s legs, Corey tugging them down along with the black lace panties. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Joey’s dick was pressing against the fabric of the skirt, no longer confined by the lace, the singer daring to move the skirt out of the way so he could see it, the tip was sticky flushed pink, the thing twitching when Corey ran a finger up the length. Corey was about to repeat the action when he was dragged forward by his collar, a strangled groan ripping from him. Joey’s icy eyes boring into him, </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“I told you to fuck me, That’s what you wanted right? Or would you rather get me off and leave yourself high n’ dry?” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Corey let out a strangled cry. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“No No nonoo- Please let me, you said I earned it, please, You’re so pretty, I- '' Corey</span>
  </em>
  <span> continued to beg until Joey gave another sharp yank to the leash and Corey’s hands flew up to cover his own mouth to stop his babbling. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Than get </span>
  </em>
  <b>
    <em>Fucking. On. With. It.” </em>
  </b>
  <span>Corey’s golden locks bouncing as he eagerly nodded, he really did look like a golden fucking retriever. The drummer almost snorted. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Joey readjusted so he was laying on his back with his legs spread on either side of Corey, knees bent upwards so he wasn’t lying completely flat.  The drummer saw Corey glance around as if in search of something, Joey raising an eyebrow as he heard the singer mumble something about lube. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Use your spit,” </span>
  </em>
  <span>The other man sent Joey a small look of hesitation before shoving three of his fingers in his own mouth, sucking and drooling over the digits in an obscene display. Corey took all three of the fingers down his throat without any effort or pause, which Joey took a mental note of as he watched Corey continue to soak his fingers in spit. A long string of the spit trailing from his lips when he finally removed the fingers, panting a bit as he moved the fingers down to rub against Joey’s entrance. Joey’s face scrunching up in earnest as Corey coated him in spit and began to try and stretch him a bit more. Finally, Joey growled again that the singer better hurry up, Corey whimpering and removing his fingers. Corey finally tugged off his boxers, which now had a small patch soiled in precum, his erection springing free. The drummer tightened his fingers around the leash, though he didn’t pull on it yet, watching carefully how Corey raised a hand to his own mouth and spat a few times, only to lower his hand to wrap it around his dick. Trying to cover the twitching needy thing in the improvised lube, stroking it once or twice so more precum oozed from the tip. Corey's blushing face was partially covered by the reddish-golden curls that framed it, but Joey could see the way he bit his lip and eyes screwed shut as he, at last, got the opportunity to touch himself if only for a few seconds. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The singer released himself, hands moving to hook under the back of Joey’s knees, pushing them up so the small man was nearly folded in half, glancing up at Joey to see if there was any disapproval in his eyes; luckily for him, there wasn't any. The tip of the oozing cock pressed against Joey’s hole, the room was silent save for their combined harsh breaths as Corey finally penetrated into the drummer. A desperate moan ripped from Joey as his dominant tone slipped for just a second; his mind overwhelmed with the painful burn of his body stretching with not nearly enough preparation or spit to make the process comfortable. Joey’s desperate moans were nothing compared to Corey’s desperate near manic breathy whimpers, the singer trying so hard not to thrust himself completely into Joey as soon as he felt the tight wet heat clench around the head of his dick. One of the singer’s hands clawing down the back of one of the smaller man’s thighs, leaving red lines along the pale skin. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Both their breathing becoming more and more frenzied with every burning inch Corey buried himself deeper into Joey’s body. Joey’s fingers digging into the bedsheets; the leash still trapped in his grip nearly forgotten as his brain lost itself to the twisting knot of hot pleasure buried deep in his belly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>After what felt like an eternity for both of them, Corey bottomed out, their hips flush together. Corey’s eyes unfocused as his body curled over Joey, a string of drool dripping from his lips onto Joey’s chest. The drummer barely noticed as he tried to regain his mental faculties before ordering Corey to move; the ladder following the order with restrained enthusiasm, slowly rolling his hips rewarded with a sharp gasp from the smaller man. The sound encouraged him to repeat the action with more vigor, daring to pull out just to slam back with a loud groan. Joey whispered encouragement as Corey continued to buck his hips in a manic pattern. Picking up his still frenzied rhythm, the singer nearly pulled all the way out of the warm heat, quickly thrusting back in. Mind nearly so fuzzy he almost couldn’t hear the loud yelp sounding from Joey that his whole body freezing in deep fear that he had hurt the smaller man. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Joey nearly slapped the singer when he stopped moving, meeting Corey’s fearful eyes with fiery need. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Did I tell you to stop?” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Corey whimpered, Joey, realizing the singer must have thought he hurt him. His fire quelled slightly at the singer’s misplaced worry. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“You didn’t hurt me, Pet, you made me feel good,” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Joey emphasized his words while pulling at Corey’s collar. Corey made a gurgling sound as his hips bucked involuntarily at Joey’s words, the drummer’s head rolling back as he moaned. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“C’mon, Cor, make me feel </span>
  </em>
  <b>
    <em>good,</em>
  </b>
  <em>
    <span>” </span>
  </em>
  <span>The manic pace returned full force, the singer not holding back as he hammered into Joey. The smaller man back-arching, legs trembling as the near breakneck rhythm sent shockwaves through his body. Corey’s own guts twisting into a burning knot in his lower belly, mind reeling. If anyone else had been under him at this moment, his mind would have not gone as mad, but it was Joey. His bandmate. Who was driving him mad with his noises, words, and body. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Corey’s hand raked down the back of Joey’s thigh to find its way to the drummer’s cock. The flushed shaft twitching against his pale belly, testicles heavy at its base. Corey ran a blunt painted nail up across them and all the way up to the leaking head before wrapping a hand around and beginning to stroke it to match his erratic thrusts. Another deep cry ripping from Joey. Near girlish moans escaping the small drummer as his head rolled back and his chest shook. Corey’s own body wracked with bolts of pleasure, with every deep thrust accented by a groan or a whimper. Soft muttering about how pretty and tight and perfect Joey was spilling from his lips. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Joey was on the brink, Corey pounding into him and the tight fist around his own cock was making his inside dance and writhe with burning pleasure. The drummer panted out a warning to Corey that he was close, the singer only increasing his pace if that was possible, fingernails digging deep into the soft flesh of Joey’s thigh. Joey cried out Corey’s name, back arching, and every muscle in his body tensing as the tendrils of pleasure thrashed in his gut. White ropes spilled out onto his stomach and still presant skirt. High-pitched throaty gasps sounding from the twitching porcelain body whose limbs went limp. Mind clouded and fuzzy in post-cordial bliss. The leash no longer pulled firm by the slack fingers. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And yet his partner was still in the midst of his own madness, the inner muscles of the smaller body spanning and tightening around his erection made his thrusts even more manic as he still stroked the drummer’s cock through its orgasm. Hand regretfully leaving the softening dick as he grabbed at the slack leash that hung from his own neck, pulling at it harshly so the leather dug into the skin of his throat. Tongue hanging from one side of his lips and drool dribbling down his chin he pulled the leash again as his thrusts stuttered and his body finally relented. Still bucking into the limp body his own orgasm hit him like a train, howling out the drummer’s name when the sticky fluid spilled into the smaller man’s body. Corey let his mind drown in europa as he fell forward only catching himself so as to not crush Joey, Corey's arms locking on either side of the other man’s ribs as his hair fell to frame his face which was sweaty and twisted in an expression of ecstasy. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Joey shaking hands reached up to pet Corey’s head, the man pressing into the touch unconsciously as his mind still reeled. Corey rolled to the side, in one motion pulling out of Joey and releasing his other hand’s hold on the drummer’s thigh. Joey groaning at both the friction of Corey pulling out and the rush of air that suddenly invaded him. He tried to unfold himself, legs that had been trapped against his chest at an angle that would have been uncomfortable for anyone less flexible, stretched out with a painful groan. Joey felt the slick of ejaculant on his thighs, as well as his own coating his stomach, which he tried to wipe away with his skirt. Only succeeding in soiling the thing further. Joey ran a hand through his hair, brushing the raven strands out of his face as he glanced over to see Corey lying next to him still panting. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Joey gave Corey a soft smile, his eyes no longer icey or demanding but affectionate. Joey dragged himself onto his side, his legs still limp, using a hand to grab one of the many pillows on the bed to rest under his head. Joey met Corey’s eyes again and gestured for the singer to move closer, which the blonde man did, Joey grabbing another pillow so the other man could also get comfortable. Once Corey rested his head, fluffy hair fanning out on the pillow, Joey reached out to run his finger across the singer's jaw, then up to weave his entire hand into the reddish-golden locks. Fingernails scratching delicately at his scalp. Corey’s eyes fell shut with a happy rumbling coming from the back of his throat. Joey continued his actions much to Corey’s delight. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Though eventually, Joey’s hand found its way down to the thick leather collar that still encircled Corey’s neck. Fiddling with the buckle, when Corey made a displeased sound. Joey felt a tug in his chest, the singer liked the collar, Joey’s smile getting a bit wider. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“I’ll just remove it for a bit. We need to check if your neck is alright, Don't worry,” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Joey’s voice soothed the other man’s nerves, Corey nodding a bit as he felt Joey’s skilled fingers undid the buckle. Though he still whimpered when the leather was no longer pressed to his skin. Joey set the collar down next to them on the bed, then focusing back on Corey. Using both hands to tilt the singer’s head up so he could inspect his neck. The collar had left a red strip around it, on the sides and back where the edge of the leather had dug in deep to the skin due to all pulling. It would probably leave some bruises and marks but nothing that made Joey worry. Joey delicately caressed his hands over the irritated skin, Corey settling comfortably into the affectionate touches. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Joey leaned in to plant a loving kiss on Corey’s forehead, </span>
  <b>
    <em>“Good Doggie.”</em>
  </b>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>yup.<br/>i told you Corey eats ass<br/>Corey Taylor looks like a Golden Retriever, don't argue with me<br/>Still can’t write dialog to save my life</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Brat [Joey & Corey & Mick]</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>yup<br/>corey getting fucking wreaked, this was a request<br/>thats it, thats the chapter<br/>also, the collar is back lmao<br/>oh btw this is over 6k words, enjoy</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p><em> “You Fucking </em> <b> <em>Brat.</em> </b> <em> ”  </em></p><p>Corey felt his stomach drop as if someone had punched a hole through his abdomen. A hand locking in his hair and dragging him backward, his legs stumbling so he didn’t fall. His head was craned backward at a strange angle, a pain groan escaping through grit teeth as he felt someone press against him. The small body behind him pulling sharply at his hair again, breath brushing at Corey’s ear. </p><p><em> “You thought you were gonna get off Scott-Fucking-Free didn’t you? Fucking with my kit, Not to mention all the other shit you pulled. Think I’d forget, Bitch?” </em>Corey whimpered at the harsh words, the hand in his scalp pulling harder. </p><p><em> “‘M sorry! I was ju-” </em>A mouth biting hard at his neck cut him off, teeth sinking in so far Corey was sure they drew blood. Corey jaw tightening in an effort to suppress a cry. </p><p><em> “Oh, you’ll be fucking sorry.” </em> Joey let out a low humorless laugh as he released Corey’s hair from his grip, grinning as the singer whimpered again. Joey licking his lips to savor the metallic taste that filled his mouth, an evil glint in his icy eyes. </p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p><p>Corey was huddled on his hotel bed. Legs pressed to his chest, forehead resting on his bent knees. He was waiting for Joey to return. The smaller man still had a wicked spring to his step when he had patted Corey on the head and promised that he would be back soon. Corey's stomach was tied in more knots than he could count, which only tightened when he heard the hotel room door being unlocked, though he stayed exactly where he was. Only his hand’s grip tightening at the fabric of his jeans. The bite on his neck still throbbing with dull pain. </p><p>Murmured voice’s entered the room, Joey’s sinister enthusiasm rolling off his tongue as he whispered something to the man that followed him. Corey heard footsteps approach then stop dead in front of his still curled up form. Then a surprisingly soft touch on his head, </p><p><em> “Corey,” </em> Joey's voice was near a sing-song tone, <em> “Look at me.” </em>Joey’s hand caressed Corey’s jaw as the singer raised his head reluctantly to stare into the eyes filled with cruel excitement. Joey purred,</p><p><em> “You’re going to pay for all the shit you pulled,” </em> Joey had a Cheshire grin of his face, long silky hair tickling the sides of Corey’s face as he leaned down with hands locked around the singer’s jaw, <em> “And I'm going to enjoy every second of it.” </em>Just the joyful threat in the drummer’s voice made Corey whimper with fear. </p><p>Corey’s eye slid away from the drummer, no longer able to stand holding his gaze, and met with the other figure standing with arms crossed in the room, and if it was possible his heart dropped even further out of his chest. Corey made an undignified sound in the back of his throat. Joey giggling,</p><p><em> “Say hi to Mick, he’s going to help us.” </em> Joey turned his attention to the large guitarist, <em> “Isn’t that right, Micky?” </em>The man snorted in response. </p><p>The drummer let go of Corey, going to kneel next to the bag he had brought with him, rummaging for a second before pulling out the thick leather collar that always made Corey’s lower belly twist in something akin to excitement. Corey uncurled himself so Joey could buckle the cool leather around his neck, Corey making another small undignified sound when the buckle clicked into place and Joey tugged at it to make sure it was secure. </p><p>Joey was still smirking, though he turned his attention back to the other man in the room, pointing him to the armchair in the corner of the hotel room, the bigger man following the order without any fuss. Sitting heavily in the chair and watching the two other men with vested interest through his dark sunglasses. Which he soon removed, setting them on the small table next to his chair. </p><p>Joey was in the process of removing Corey’s shirt, brushing fingers over the many tattoos decorating the singer's skin. Pressing a bent knuckle into one of the smiley faces inked near the man’s hip, watching for a reaction in the other man’s face, smirking when he got one. Joey stepped back, yanking on the leash he had clipped to the collar earlier, forcing Corey forwards onto shaky legs. Joey lips in a sneer when he yanked the leash down harshly, making the singer lose balance and collapse to his knees with a groan of pain. Joey silently challenged the singer to try and stand again, which he didn’t. Pleased, Joey tugged on the leash again signaling for Corey to follow him as he spun around and made his way over to Mick, who was still sitting watching the display in quiet observance. Corey crawling on his hands and knees towards the sitting man, humiliation burning hot on his face as he kept his head down. Finally coming to rest in front of the large man, sitting back on his haunches with eyes refusing to look above the guitarist's boots, as if the tied laces were the most interesting things in the world.  </p><p>Seeing the singer knelt in front of him with shaking shoulders and his usually brash persona stripped away made Mick's guts twist. The sin that Joey had purred in his ear earlier coming back full force as he could feel arousal course through his belly, fingers twitching as if eager to grab at the singer. Mick watched as Joey’s pale hand knotted in the reddish-gold hair jerking Corey’s head up so he was forced to look up at Mick. The blush was still heavy on the blonde man’s cheeks, teeth grit, and eyes pleading as his body arched to comply with the hand pulling at his hair. Mick was so tempted to drag the singer up and fuck his mouth right then and there but he held himself back, waiting to see what Joey had planned. Joey leaned down to the singer’s ear whispering something that made Corey’s face got even redder, his eyes screwed shut and let out a painful moan. Joey’s Cheshire grin returned as he purred more filth into Corey’s ear, causing the singer to instinctually buck his hips in an obscene display, hands coming up to clutch at the collar around his neck. Joey straightened back up and cast a look at the guitarist who was breathing heavier now, a rumbling coming from his chest as Joey met his bright blue eyes. Eyes still locked with Mick’s and a hand firmly rooted in Corey’s hair, Joey hummed, </p><p><em> “Corey… What did you want Mick to do?” </em> A gurgling from the singer’s throat, <em> “C’mon, Pet, </em> <b> <em>tell him</em> </b> <em> .” </em>Mick’s shoulders tensed as Joey loosened his grip on the blonde’s hair, letting his head lull forward, droll making the singer’s lips shine, eyes still teary as he met Mick’s heated gaze, </p><p><em> “Please…” </em> Corey was choking on the words as they spilled from his wet lips, <em> “Please fuck my throat, Micky, Pleeassee,” </em>The last words dragged out as Mick felt a shiver run up his spine, the words making his body flood with need. Joey was studying the big man’s reaction, even if he couldn’t read the guitarist's mind the little drummer knew him well enough to know what he wanted. Joey leaned in close to the bigger man, a pale hand brushing the loose hair out of the way so he could whisper directly into the other man’s ear. </p><p><em> “Well, will you? I mean, he asked so nicely. Look at him, Mick, he’s already begging for it.” </em>The filth made Mick’s own face flush a bit, the need already stirring in his belly amplified. A deep growl rumbling in Mick’s chest as the drummer pulled away with a pleased smirk on his face. </p><p>The drummer dropped to his knees next to Corey, who was still looking with glazed eyes up at Mick, the pale man snaking a hand up to grab the singer’s chin and sharply turning the blonde’s head so he was nose to nose with the drummer. Joey glancing up at Mick to make sure the bigger man was watching before pouncing on Corey, mouth on mouth in a sinful display. Corey’s muffled moan matched by Joey’s own noises as he wormed his tongue into the singer’s mouth to deepen the kiss. Corey daring to fight for a small bit of dominance in the kiss, only to have Joey trap Corey’s bottom lip between his teeth and give a warning nip while quietly snarling. Corey instead turned his body to face the drummer, letting the drummer’s thigh wedged between his own, tilting his head to try and deepen the kiss and wrapping arms around Joey's waist. Joey’s hand holding the leash pulled a bit which made the singer moan, the sound swallowed by Joey. Corey’s arms tighten around the drummer as the pale man’s hand rakes down his bare back, blunt painted nails making red trails appear on the partially inked skin. </p><p>They pulled away from each other to gasp for air. Joey now flushed face turning to look up at the guitarist who was transfixed by the display. The bigger man had leaned forward as if in trance, his hips shifting a bit in lust.  Joey could sense the fiery look Mick had in his eye, Joey still had his own eyes locked on the bigger man as he dug his nails into Corey’s side, Corey whimpering. Joey dark painted lips twitching in a suppressed smile as he raised a hand, the leash still looped around the wrist to lock in Corey’s hair again and pull the singer’s head back so his body arched against the drummer. Joey only broke his attention on the guitarist to lean in and bite hard at the exposed skin at the base of the singer’s neck. He bit and sucked at the sensitive skin, making Corey cry out something unintelligible as he ran a tongue over the tooth mark's he left, tasting metallic like that time earlier in the day. The hot blood dribbled down Joey's chin as he pulled away. For the first time hearing a strangled grunt from the big guitarist. Joey licked his lips in joyous contempt, making sure the bigger man heard the small moan of delight the drummer made at the taste. </p><p>Corey was still trying to regain himself, trying not to grind his hips against the thigh pressed against his groin, but he couldn’t hold himself back from rolling his hips the smallest amount to get even a taste of friction. Even that small movement made a moan catch in his throat. And then both of the other men’s attention was locked on him. Feeling the slack of the leash tightens and the fingers still on his hip dig further into his skin. </p><p><em> “Oh look Micky, the puppy wants to get off,” </em> Joey’s voice was alarmingly soft, <em> “I don't think he’s earned that yet.” </em>The larger man grunting in agreement, as Corey whimpered again. Joey moved his thigh away so he could stand, still holding the leash taught. Joey turned his attention to the guitarist, Corey following his gaze, big watery eyes focusing on the bigger man, his bottom lip trembling. </p><p><em> “Time for you to earn it, puppy,” </em>At Joey's words, Corey shifted closer to Mick, the guitarist spreading his muscled thighs to allow Corey easier access. Corey was looking up at him with those big blue eyes again, pupils dilated and lips already swollen. Mick couldn’t keep staring into the other man’s eyes, turning his head slightly, a calloused hand coming up to cover his mouth. </p><p>Joey had taken the opportunity to grab the smaller velvet bag he had brought with him, setting it down on the ground as he knelt down behind Corey, pressing himself to the singer’s back and wrapping a hand around to stroke a clothed thigh. Coreys made a small sound as Joey rested his head in the crook of Corey's neck, the leather collar pressing against his cheek as he watched the singer's hands push up Mick's shirt so he could fiddle with his belt. Joey reached out, his hand coming to rest on top of Corey’s, who froze until Joey guided his hand down to rub at the bulge in Mick’s pants. Joey shifted to whisper sinful things in the blonde man’s ear as he pressed even closer to the singer, and continued to guide Corey hand in stroking and rubbing at the clothed arousal. Corey’s face flushing red as he could feel Mick’s cock harden even more under his hand, a deep growl from the bigger man sending small tremors through Corey’s body. Joey hand guiding Corey’s back to Mick’s belt, which the singer undid with trembling fingers, a string of drool dripping down his chin as he unzipped the guitarist's pants. The singer’s face flushed even more and he let out a small squeak as he realized the bigger man wasn’t wearing anything under his pants. Joey giggled at the discovery, eyes glittering,</p><p><em> “Look at that, Puppy,” </em>Corey reached out to pull the almost fully hard cock out of its confines, Mick shifting his hips forward in encouragement, his thighs spreading a bit more as Corey leaned closer. Joey had moved his hands down, both tracing over Corey’s thighs and belly, still whispering quiet comments of filth in the singer’s ear. Corey wrapped a hand around the thing, it twitched in his palm as he stroked it. Mick’s chest rumbling as Corey picked up his pace, growing in confidence as he dipped his head and gave a small lick to the tip which was sticky and oozing precum. Corey's lips stretched as he took the throbbing pink head into his mouth and ran his tongue up the slit. Mick’s hips bucking slightly, and Joey mumbling praises in Corey’s ear. Joey’s hands started to grope Corey through the singer’s jeans as he took more of Mick into his mouth, a moan ripping from Corey’s throat, making the cock stuffed in his mouth twitch with the vibrations. </p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p><p>Corey could feel Joey’s hips grinding against his ass as the smaller man continued to run his skilled fingers across Corey’s inked skin. The little drummer’s body still pressed to him touching him and making his already unfocused mind get fuzzier. His gag reflex kicks in a few times making his throat span and contract around the shaft, in turn making Mick grunt. Corey was trying very hard to breathe through his nose and not choke when a large hand knotted itself in his hair and pushed him down further. Corey made an undignified moan as his hands clutched at the guitarist muscled thighs, running his tongue on the underside of the dick. Mick’s hand tightening in his hair. Corey finally was able to with much effort take the whole cock down his throat, he could feel the thing in his stomach. The guitarist's strong hand held him still, the singer’s nose pressed into the black pubic hair at its base, and drool seeping from his lips, hand tightening in the fabric of the guitarist's pants as the singer tried to breathe through his nose with little success. Joey purred in his ear about how good of a job he was doing. Mick finally wrenched the singer’s head up and all the way off his cock. Corey gasped for air, lips shiny and swollen red as he made a half gurgle half coughing sound. Eyes rolled into the back of his head as he panted.</p><p>Not even noticing when the little drummer left his back. Joey had a wicked grin on his face. He had first unclipped the leash from the blonde’s collar, it wasn't needed at the moment, then he had retrieved the velvet bag, pulling out a select few items before focusing back on Corey’s shaking form. He took a moment to study the singer; Skin flushed and sweaty, his head still gripped with a large calloused hand, and his mind already a mess. The singer was whimpering and gasping<em> , </em> he already looked so fucked out and he had barely had a cock down his throat. <em> Joey was absolutely loving every second of this. </em>The drummer groped himself through his own pants as he watched Mick lower Corey’s head back down so the singer could tentatively lick the head of the guitarists oozing cock. </p><p>The blonde could feel his jeans being undone, trying his best to help by lifting his hips so they could be pulled off him along with his boxers, the singer shivered as his own cock sprung free. Hands and mouth still working the big guitarist’s dick, Corey trembled when a hand wrapped around his erection and gave it a few quick strokes. Then, he felt something unusual, something being rolled down and fitted around the base of his dick, the pressure making him squirm as Joey once again pressed against him. Corey tried to pull away and look down at what Joey had done, but his head was held firm by Mick, who had an uncharacteristic grin on his face. The big man seemed to know what was happening, Corey trying to plead with his eyes as his mouth was still occupied. </p><p><em> “Don't worry, Puppy, it’s just a cockring. Mick suggested it,” </em> Joey sounded very pleased, he and Mick shared a look. Corey only now processing everything, letting out a long whine that made Mick growl, bucking his hips into the singer’s mouth. <em> “And guess what,” </em> Joey squeezed the fat of Corey's ass, <em> “We still have one more surprise left.” </em>Corey moaned, his fingers still clutching at the guitarist pants and he heard Joey giggle. He was still crouching in front of where the big guitarist sat, legs tucked under him with his ass propped up on his heels. He only half-heard Joey tell him to lean forward slightly so the drummer could get better access, which he did without a second thought. </p><p>Joey squirted lube onto two of his fingers, moving then down to press between Corey’s cheeks, Corey instinctively leaning forward a bit more and spreading his legs apart. Joey circled his lubed finger around Corey’s hole as he met Mick’s burning eyes, the guitarist shoving Corey’s head all the way back down so his cock was rooted deep in the singer's throat when at the same moment Joey’s fingers pressed into the blonde to the second knuckle. Corey made a sound like a strangled cry as tears pricked his eyes and his nostrils flared. Mick rolling his hips into Corey’s throat as Joey slowly began fucking the singer with his lithe fingers. The singer’s brain almost disconnected from his body, his two ends filled, his whole body trembling and pulsating with heated pleasure. His fingers released from Mick’s pant leg and reached up to cling to the guitarist’s shirt, pulling himself closer to the big man and exposing himself more to Joey. He was on his knees now, Joey taking advantage of the new angle by adding another finger, curling them, and rubbing against the bundle of nerves deep inside the singer. Corey’s eye-rolling into the back of his head, his jaw going slack around the cock in his mouth. Mick pulled on his hair so the singer’s head tilted to the side, now looking up at the bigger man with tears filling his needy eyes. Mick's chest rumbling with a deep near predator growl. </p><p>The fingers inside Corey scissored, opening him up and sinking deeper into him, before pulling all the way out. Leaving the singer to whine and shift his hips as if trying to find the fingers to fill him again. Then something bigger pushed against his hole, it wasn’t a cock, even in his foggy head he could tell that. It had a strange texture and when it penetrated him it made the heat in his gut rise and twist with no hope for release. </p><p><em> “I told you we had one more surprise,” </em>Joey’s voice slow and teasing as the drummer pushed the thing further into the shaking man. Mick massaged his fingers in Corey’s scalp, giving the singer a break from the assault on his throat, letting the blonde face rest against his thigh. Drool and precum dribbling from the blonde’s mouth as his eyes darted around as if he was trying to collect his scattered mind. Mick’s other hand petted the side of Corey’s face, watching how it contorted when Joey pushed the toy up to its base into the singer’s tight heated body. Mick hooked a finger under the thick leather collar around Corey’s neck so the singer was forced to look up at him, eyes still dilated and needy, Mick ran a large thumb across Corey's cheek, the singer nuzzling his hand, eyes now half-lidded. Mick made a deep sound of approval before breaking eye contact with the singer to look at Joey. Who held something up for the guitarist to see, a small smirk on the drummer’s face. </p><p>A buzzing started, Corey’s whole body tensing as he felt something deep in his guts move followed by a spike of pleasure that made him cry out. The vibration of the toy pressed against his prostate made his brain short circuit. Tongue lolling out of the side of his mouth, the guitarist the only thing stopping him from collapsing bonelessly onto the floor. Corey twitched and cried out when the vibrations heightened, eyes rolling back into his head and moans ripping from his throat. Joey’s hand tracing the singer’s hip to find its way to the erection still hanging heavily between the singer’s thighs. The sensitive dark pink head dripping ropes of sticky precum onto the carpet, its base still wrapped with the cock ring that was preventing the singer from coming right there and then. Rubbing his thumb up the slit, Joey enjoyed the helpless noises the singer made. </p><p><em> “Are you enjoying the toy, Puppy? I borrowed it from Paulie, so nice of him,” </em> Joey hummed as he increased the speed of the vibrator again, the dick still held in his other hand twitching and begging for release. <em> “I’ll make you a deal, You get Mick off, and I let you cum? How does that sound Puppy?” </em> Joey was kind enough to turn down the vibrator so Corey could actually process the suggestion. The singer panting, face still propped up in the guitarist’s hand, but the blonde managed to nod weakly. Joey made a pleasing sound, looking to meet Mick’s eyes, the bigger man giving an agreeing grunt, hand petting the side of the singer’s face as if trying to soothe him if only for a moment. This was immediately offset by the vibrator picking up again, a high pitched desperate mewling clawing its way out from Corey’s throat as his eyes screwed shut, his guts felt like they were on fire. The burn of overstimulation prickling every inch of him. This was absolute torture, <em> and he was loving it.  </em></p><p>Mick had nearly forgotten about his own still dripping erection, solely focusing on the singer. It was only when he felt a hand enclose around the base of his dick did all of his arousal floods back to his brain. The singer’s hand pumping the erection, his mind still spinning but moving to lick at the tip. The singer played special attention to an especially engorged vein on the side, Mick’s hand that was tangled in the reddish-gold hair tightening its grip again. Corey tried in earnest to take the guitarist all the way down his throat in one go, failing, and trying again. Sucking hard with determination. The blonde daring to graze his teeth along the sensitive shaft, Mick letting out an animalistic growl. Hands groping any part of Mick that wasn't taken up by the singer’s mouth, Mick was holding himself back from fucking the singer’s mouth with everything he had but he could feel his self-control slipping away.  </p><p>Then he snapped. Large hand holding the singer's head still as he bucked his hips into the welcoming wet mouth, the singer’s jaw going slack as his throat was fucked raw. Corey could barely process anything anymore, blazing coils near painful joints of pleasure coursed from his mouth to toy buzzing away in his ass, and then to his cock which Joey had decided to start stroking as if the singer’s mind wasn't already overwhelmed enough. Mick’s rhythm was becoming manic, animalistic growls that made Corey's heart pound faster as he tried to breathe while the ravaging of his throat continued without mercy. He was moaning and whimpering around the cock shoved down his esophagus, tear spilling down his cheeks. Mick yanked Corey’s head forward, the singer’s nose buried in the black pubic hair, hands clutching at Mick’s thighs as the large guitarist snarled between clenched teeth. A noise more akin to a grizzly bear than something human. Corey felt the ejaculant spill thick and heavy down into his belly, making a gurgling sound while Mick rolled his hips a few more times. Then finally the cock was pulled from his throat. His jaw still slack and tongue spilling out his mouth, cum and spit covering his chin and his watery eyes staring unfocused up at Mick.  Corey was panting, even if he was able to pull together the mental agency required to form words, his throat wouldn’t have allowed it. </p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p><p>Mick was breathing deep and heavy, his afterglow still running rampant through his veins. Leaning down, he caressed a hand down Corey’s face and titled the singer’s chin up so he could look right into the bright blue teary eyes. </p><p><b> <em>“Good Puppy,”</em> </b> The soft rumbling voice made Corey twitch. A hand tucking some of the sweaty hair out of his face. Joey had been stroking himself as he watched the display, the controller grasped in his other hand, teeth biting at his own lip. Turning it up the highest setting once again, making the singer, whose face was still held in Mick’s hand, twitch and squirm. Mick sent the drummer a look that said something along the lines of ‘I think he earned it.”, which the drummer snorted at, taking pity and turning down the toy. Crawling to press himself against Corey again, he pressed a finger against the base of the toy, pushing it in a bit further and moving it in small circles, purring as his own arousal ground against the back of the singer’s thigh. </p><p><em> “Do you want to cum, Puppy?” </em> Joey only got a string of whimpers in response. <em> “C’mon, Cor, do you?” </em> Joey traced a finger along the ink adorning the singer’s hip. Corey was trying as best he could to gather every sliver of will power left in his trembling overstimulated body to answer. </p><p><b> <em>“p-please...” </em> </b>Corey’s answer was nothing more than a croaked whisper, though it satisfied Joey. The little drummer tracing nails gently down the singer’s dick, which was swollen dark pink, the head sticky and hot to the touch. Joey's fingers stretched and removed the cock ring, Corey moaning at every single bit of fiction. Joey set the ring down, hand brushing light fingers up to the singer's chest, where he pinched a sensitive pink nipple between his fingers. Murmuring more filth into the singer's ear as he increased the speed of the vibrator still rubbing against the singer’s prostate. Mick was watching with intense interest, he had tucked himself back into his pants, though he would need to wash said pants later.  Both his hands caressing the singer’s face, as the blonde man truly started to fall apart. It had taken all the man’s willpower to croak out that one-word plea, and now he was reduced to half-choked moans and mewls as Joey pulled him to the brink. </p><p>Then the singer fell, after so long of being denied his own release he cried out. Tears once again welling in his eyes, and hands coming up to grasp on Mick’s wrists in a feeble effort to ground himself. Corey’s eyes rolled into the back of his head so far all the blue disappeared. His whole body writhing and shuddering. Hips jolting forward as pearly roped spilled from his dick. There was no mercy for him as he was stroked through his orgasm, the toy still buzzing in him. His eyes started to blur, black dots dancing at the edges of his vision, while his body shook and convulsed in the guitarist's hands. His throat was raw and burning with desperate cries, and then, he fell completely limp, vision blacking out. </p><p> </p><p>When the singer’s eyes blinked open, still slightly out of focus, he noticed someone had put pants back on him, though he still had no shirt judging by the feeling of the scratchy hotel blankets rubbing against his bare skin, body half curled in someone’s lap. Judging by the size he guessed it was Mick. Someone was running gentle fingers through his hair, the leather collar was noticeably absent from his neck, making him whine. And fingers petted his cheek, prompting Corey to look up and see Joey and Mick’s relieved faces, though a twinkle of worry was still in both their eyes.</p><p><em> “You passed out,” </em> Joey cupped the singer’s cheek, Corey nuzzled into the touch, <em> “Are you okay, Cor?” </em>Corey nodded as best he could, head still a bit foggy. Mick’s large hand coming down to rest on Corey’s shoulder in a comforting gesture. Corey pressed himself closer to the guitarist, feeling safe in his lap. As Corey’s mind cleared of the fog he could feel the distinct ache in his guts, body clearly having been pushed to its limits, he whined half in pain, half in satisfaction. Even if his body would be very sore after tonight, he still loved it.  </p><p>After moments of the comforting touches from the two other men, Corey realized something, twisting and trying to sit up, Mick’s hands helping him balance as his head spun a bit from dizziness. Corey faced the other two men, who were sitting next to each other leaning against the backboard of the bed, looking vaguely confused at Corey's actions. Corey tried to croak out something, coughing and trying again, </p><p><em> “Jo? Did y-” </em> Corey tried to clear his throat, <em> “you ever get o-ff?” </em> His voice was strained, but he got his point across. Mick looked down at the little drummer, who had a soft smile on his face.  </p><p><em> “No, I was too busy taking care of you,” </em>The drummer spoke gently, but Corey still let out a distressed whine as if he had done something wrong. Corey looked to the guitarist, eyes begging for something. The bigger man understood and gave a small nod, Corey looking at him gratefully. Joey only realized the other two’s plans when he felt large hands wrap around his waist and lift him effortlessly into Mick’s lap. The little drummer letting out a squeak of surprise, a flush coloring his cheeks as a big hand snaked under his shirt and pressed against his belly. Joey chewed at his lip when Mick pulled the shirt off him, calloused hands pressing to his flanks and making blood flow south. </p><p>Corey was watching happily, his body was too exhausted to take an interest, though his chest twisted with satisfaction as he watched Mick brush the hair away from Joey's neck so the big man could lean down and bite at the pale skin. Joey moaned as the mouth on his skin bit and sucked at his sensitive neck. The other large hand undoing his black jeans, pushing them a little further down his boney hips while groping at his quickly growing erection. Mick’s other hand tangled in Joey’s silky hair, pulling the smaller man’s head to the side so he could nip at the skin right below the drummer’s ear, his beard scratching at the drummer’s neck. Mick’s chest rumbled, which sent shivers down Joey's spine, his muscles tensing and twitching.  Mick pulled Joey’s half-hard cock out of its confines, closing his fist around it and squeezing hard enough to make the drummer’s hips jolt. Mick was definitely less of a tease then than Joey was, Corey observed as he watched the big guitarist let go of Joey’s hair, the drummer's head falling back against the other man’s chest. Hand stroking Joey at a pace that made the drummer whimper. Joey’s hands digging into the guitarist's thighs, while Mick slid an arm under Joey's arm to massage at the drummer’s chest, nails dragging over a rosey bud and making the drummer’s back arch. </p><p>Joey shifted his hips over so he was balanced fully on one of Mick’s thighs, his hips grinding down against it as the other man’s hand stroked his dick, occasionally squeezing it in his large fist. Joey still had his jeans on but was riding Mick’s thigh in earnest, hips rolling at a quick pace. Mick's mouth sucking bruises and marks onto Joey’s pale skin, growling into Joey's ear making the smaller man buck his hips forward with a moan. Joey met Corey’s eye, the singer was watching them but crawled forward when Joey beckoned him. Corey leaning in to kiss at Joey's soft lips, Joey’s tongue finding its way into Corey’s willing mouth as Joey felt Mick increase his pace around the drummer’s dick. Joey cried out when Corey’s lips left him, kissing down his chest to start sucking and biting around the other flushed bud that wasn't being massaged between Mick’s fingers. Joey was chewing at his lip again, a thin string of drool running down his chin as the two men played his body like a fucking fiddle. </p><p>The knot of pleasure that was growing in his guts was aching for release. Both his bandmates increasing their efforts when Joey choked out a warning about his current state. Corey suckiling hard at his tender chest as Mick’s hand moves down to clamp onto the drummer’s hip.  Joey was a moaning mess sandwiched between the two other men, the heat of their bodies only making the fire in his belly grow. Joey's whole body spanned and tensed as his orgasm ripped through him, ropes of sticky white spilling over the hand that Joey was still bucking into as he felt the pleasure in his belly explode, making his brain short circuit and back arch. Joey’s body collapsed against Mick, the bigger man holding him so he didn’t fall over. Corey’s mouth found Joey’s again, the two locked together as Joey’s afterglow washed over him in waves. Mick grunted as he watched the two smaller men make out. Joey nipped at Corey’s lip before twisting up to catch the guitarist’s face in his trembling fingers, pulling the bigger man to him. Mick tasting the salt and sweetness of Joey’s mouth as the small man kissed him hard. </p><p> </p><p>The three of them were tangled together on the bed, Joey sandwiched between the two other men, Corey’s arms around his waist, his head pressed to Joey’s chest. Mick’s arm serving as a pillow for the drummer, the big man’s at the drummer’s back with his other arm slug over Joey to pet Corey's hair. All their legs tangled together. They had no need for blankets, Corey radiated heat like a small oven, only bested by Mick, who must have had an internal temperature of something akin to a star. Joey happily basked in the warmth like a lizard, then Joey spoke with his lips still in a soft smile. </p><p><em> “Puppy?” </em> Corey buried his face further into Joey’s chest. <em> “You still owe Paulie a thank you for letting us use his toys.” </em>Mick made an amused sound when Corey whimpered. The singer knew what a night with Paul entailed, his stomach twisting in a mix of anxiety and excitement. Only temporarily calmed by the guitarist petting his hair in a comforting way. Joey humming, </p><p>
  <em> “Don't worry, I promise he won't kill you.” </em>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>hehehhehehehehe<br/>my hands? bleeding. but I'm happy with this</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Acid Eyes [Sid & Chris]</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Chris and Sid<br/>Might do a whole series with Chris, though they'll prolly all be pretty short<br/>Definitely not as long as the previous chapter lmao</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>0 - Sid</p><p>He and Sid were smoking together in the little hideout they had made. The others had scoffed, calling them children. But jokes on them, tripping their ass off in a small decently well-built hideout in the woods was much better than having to deal with the nine other men sharing the house. They had dragged out two old dusty couches as well as some other furnishing out to their small hideout. Sid acquired some old Christmas lights from who knows where to hang up around the tilted ceiling, powered by a small generator the Dj had built. It was their comfy little hideout, even when it rained they were sheltered from the downpours as they played music and watched the rain through one of the crudely constructed windows. </p><p>It was one of the nights where it rained, their little hideout holding fast as the melody of rain pattered against the tin roof. The smell of the wet forest around them seeping in through the cracks, which Chris enjoyed. Sid had chosen to play soft relaxing music on the radio to add to the natural melody of the rainfall outside. It may have been the fact he was tripping off acid, but Chris was thoroughly relaxed, half wrapped in a soft patterned blanket, and sprawled on the couch opposite Sid. The young Dj had his shoulder-length hair tied half up in a ponytail, a joint hanging from his lips; occasionally taking a puff of the thing as he stared up at the ceiling which he and Chris, with a little help from Paul, had painted swirling psychedelic patterns on. Said patterns probably moving, as the Dj had also ingested a few doses of acid along with Chris. </p><p> Chris was staring at the Dj, eyes tracing the ink on the other man’s skin, watching how the typically static ink seemed to coil and writhe under the Dj’s skin. Chris’s eye tracing up to the yonder man’s face, watching how the small tattoo by his right eye bled down his face, branching off into rivulets, dancing and then seeping back into the freckled skin. Chris only realizing the Dj had noticed his staring when he heard the other man snap his fingers repeatedly, Chris shaken out of his trance. </p><p>“Fuck ‘re you lookin’ at, dicknose?” Chris focusing on making his mouth work to answer,</p><p>“Your tattoos are fuckin’ pretty, Asshole,”  Chris mumbled, still tracing the moving ink with his eyes. Sid’s face softened, the sharpness leaving his eyes.<br/>
“Thanks, sweetheart.” Sid took another long drag of his joint. Chris’s face heating up, though he couldn’t identify why. Chris laid on his side, curling into the fluffy blanket that always made him feel safe, though he couldn’t for the life of him remember where he had acquired the thing.  Trying to hide his face that he was worried was covered in a slight blush. </p><p>He could hear Sid snort. A faint rustling of fabric, then he felt Sid sit down next to him on the couch. Chris pulling the blanket over his head like a child. Sid giggled as he tried to remove the blanket from Chris’s head, Chris making an indignant noise when the Dj grabbing his face from his blanket cocoon. Chris was staring directly into the Dj’s eyes now, mesmerized by the way the greenish-blue of his iris melted into the pupils. Seeming to churn like a small seafoam ocean in the Dj’s skull. Sid was staring intently back at Chris, who seemed engrossed with his eyes, the Dj taking sympathy on the tripping man and leaning close so Chris could get a better look. Chris untangled an arm from the blanket and reached out to run a finger across and down the Dj’s cheek, following the ink that spilled down it. The percussionist’s eyes flicked between the imagined ink his finger was tracing and the Dj’s mesmerizing eyes. Chris’s face flushing with embarrassment at how close their faces were, breathing in the smoke that Sid exhaled. Sid grinned with sharp teeth, his hands squishing the other man’s cheek together like an aunt at a family reunion before pulling away. Chris made a disappointed sound, trying to swallow it back down before it escaped his lips. </p><p>Chris sat up, hugging his knees to his chest, the young Dj still sitting next to him, sucking down the rest of the joint before snubbing it out on the table between the couches, which was missing a leg, replaced by a baseball bat that was taped with probably too much duct tape to the remains of it. Chris was doing his best to look anywhere but at Sid. Then he felt the Dj lean against him, breath still tinged with the smell of smoke brushing against his ear and sending a shiver down his spine. A tattooed hand coming up to rest on Chris’s chest.  Sid leaned in a little more,</p><p><em> “What’s the matter, sweetheart? Everything okay?” </em>Sid’s voice reverberated in Chris’s head, making his skin prickle. Chris’s whole body freezing as the Dj hummed in his ear. </p><p><em> “Y’know I had a girl do this to me when I was tripping ass one time,” </em> Chris’s face flushed as the Dj continued. <em> “Whisperin’ dirty fuckin’ shit to me as she Jerked me off, I tell you, Chrissy, was one of the best damn orgasms I ever had.” </em>Chris’s let out a choked moan as Sid nibbled at his earlobe, tugging at Chris’s piercing with his teeth. </p><p><em> “Want me to jack you off, Sweetheart? I promise I'll make it good.” </em>Chris tried to nod, a gurgling sound rising from his chest as Sid grinned and traced a tattooed fingers down into the blanket that was still tangled around Chris’s hips. Sid’s other arm was slung around Chris’s shoulders, holding the percussionist close while Sid squeezed between Chris’s thighs. Long fingers groping at the hardening cock trapped underneath Chris’s pants. Rubbing his hand on the thing, making Chris moan. Sid dove in to kiss at the other man’s neck, each press of the full lips against Chris’s skin sending waves of heat through the percussionist's body. </p><p><em> “Y’like that, Chrissy? I told you, shit feels fucking great.” </em>The last word was dragged out, the vibrations making Chris’s muscles tense and eyes screwed shut. Some of the Dj’s hair had fallen loose and brushed against Chris’s jaw as the Dj nipped gently at the other man’s neck, his hand now fully down Chris’s pants, only the percussionist’s underwear preventing full contact. Chris swore he could have cum just from the Dj’s mouth at his throat and voice purring in his ear due to his inebriated state, but once the Dj’s hand snaked into his underwear and pulled out Chris’s hard dick to caress his tattooed fingers over, Chris nearly started crying. He bit on his lip to stop the obscene noises from spilling from him at every touch from the Dj. </p><p><em> “I wanna hear you, Sweetheart, no use doin’ all this if I can’t,” </em> Sid’s voice made Chris choke, the Dj’s fingers squeezing at the base of his dick then dragging all the way up to the tip, pearly precum beading at the slit. Chris moaned, his hands knotting in the blanket as he felt fire growing in his belly. <em> “Sound so fuckin’ pretty, Chrissy,” </em> A bit of drool seeped from the corner of Chris’s mouth as he gasped and moaned with every single stroke of his dick, Sid humming against his neck and making his whole body tremble. Chris could feel himself reaching his peak, guts pulsating with heat as the Dj increased his speed to draw more moans and gasps from Chris.  </p><p><em> “Enjoying yourself, Chrissy?” </em> Sid turned Chris’s head so they were staring into each other's eyes again. <em> “All those cute little fuckin’ noises you make, wonder what you sound like with a cock in your ass when your like this,” </em>Chris’s made a startled whimpering sound that was cut off when Sid crashed their mouths together. The Dj’s tongue damn near shoved all the way down Chris’s throat while his fist continued to pump tight and fast around Chris’s dick. The metallic taste of Sid’s grill accenting the already feverish affection.  Sid swallowed every sound for Chris, feeling the percussionist hands clutch at his shirt and pull him even closer. Sid hummed into the kiss his own mind clouded over by the substances buzzing in his system, Chris’s body hot and perfect against his.</p><p>When they pulled away from each other to catch their breaths, Chris’s face was flushed and eyes with dilated pupils unfocused as he muttered something indecipherable. Sid got a wolfish grin on his face. </p><p><em> “Gonna cum, Sweetheart?” </em> The Dj squeezing hard around Chris’s dick, as the other man whimpered. <em> “Look so fuckin’ cute, Chrissy,” </em> Judging by the noises Chris was making Sid knew he was on the brink, <em> “Cum for me, Sweetheart, wanna hear how pretty you sound. C’mon please, sweetheart, </em> <b> <em>Pleaassseee</em> </b> <em> ,” </em>Sid pushed Chris over the edge, words and skin and heat making the percussionist cry out. Back arching and hips thrusting into the tight fist, covering the tattooed hand in sticky white ropes. The aftershocks jolted through Chris’s body as the Dj removed his hand, moving it up to lick the sticky cum that dripped from his fingers. Chris watched with blurry eyes as the Dj licked his fingers clean. Sid gave him a sharp smirk when he finished his work, leaning in to smooch the percussionist's cheek. Chris grunting. </p><p><em> “Taste as good as you sound,” </em> Chris’s face flushed red as Sid giggled. <em> “Did it feel good?” </em>Sid cocked his head to the side, he practically already knew the answer but having Chris say it made his chest twinge with pride. </p><p><em> “Y-Yeah, felt fucking amazin’,  best handjob I’ve ever got.” </em>Sid grinned, metal teeth shining. </p><p><em> “Glad I could be your number one, Chrissy, “ </em> Sid traced a tattooed finger along Chris’s jaw, <em> “Who’d I dethrone?”  </em>The percussionist snorted,</p><p><em> “Your fuckin’ Mum,” </em>Sid barked out a laugh, pinching Chris’s cheek in retaliation. </p><p><em> “You’re Damn Right!  Where’d you think I got my skills from?!” </em>Chris groaned. The both of them cackling, throwing insults and banter back and forth as the rain continued to steadily pound on the roof of their hideout, soft music still playing in the background. It was a good night. </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>who should Chris be with next? if thats what yall want</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Bath Time [Sid & Shawn]</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>oh y'know<br/>sid getting a bath<br/>and shawn being shawn</p><p>i dont have an explanation, i like these two tho, it cute</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Sid was sitting in a hotel bathtub, boney knees knocking together and tattooed arms crossed across his chest. The bubbles clouded the surface of the bath, he dragged a few fingers through the soapy water, watching as the bubbling popped and floated across the surface. <em><br/>
<br/>
“Eyes,” </em>Sid snapped his eyes closed, a bowlful of soapy water poured over his head, Sid sputtering and trying to get the wet hair out of his face, but his hands were batted away. Shawn grunting as he grabbed the mini bottle of shampoo that came complimentary with the hotel room, lathering his hands with the stuff before running his fingers through Sid’s long chestnut hair. Sid squirmed a bit before Shawn snapped at him to sit still. Sid muttered something under his breath, Shawn narrowing his eyes. </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p>
<p></p><div class="userstuff module">
  <p><em>“You were the one complaining about how badly your fuckin’ legs were hurtin’, Ratboy, ” </em>Shawn rolling his eyes and scrubbing harder at Sid’s scalp as the Dj started to mumble indignantly in his alien language that no one but he understood. Shawn grunted out another warning as he dumped another bowlful of water on the Dj’s head, Sid shutting his eyes in time, but not his mouth. Coughing out sudsy water and cursing at Shawn. The clown was smiling a tiny bit and grabbed the conditioner, repeating the process, though this time giving just a tiny bit more warning when he dumped the water over the Dj’s head so he didn’t end up getting smacked by Sid’s flailing arms. Sid sat hunched over, arms still crossed, all but his head and chest underwater, not even bothering to try and get the wet auburn hair out of his face as it cascaded down his shoulders. Shawn grabbed the bowl he had stolen from the hotel dining service and poured a bit more soapy water over the Dj’s head just to tease him. Sid hissed like a cat and shook his head violently, spraying droplets of water into Shawn's face. The clown grunting and trying to shield himself from the barrage. </p>
  <p><em>“Bastard,” </em>Sid hissed again and raised a hand to flick water at Shawn, who was now incredibly tempted to shove the DJ's whole head underwater. Shawn growled, plunging his hand into the water at the other end of the tub and pulling the stopper for the drain. The water began to drain out of the bathtub as the clown stood, grabbing a towel to wipe off his face and hands. Sid looked up at him confused, while Shawn turned a glance at the DJ with an evil smile on his face, waving mockingly as he walked out of the bathroom leaving the helpless Dj sitting in the now half-empty and quickly draining bath. </p>
  <p> </p>
  <p>It had been about 15 or so minutes, Shawn had distracted himself by flipping through the channels on the hotel’s cheap TV, though he listened carefully just in case the Dj decided to give in and call for him, which did admittedly take longer than the clown would have initially guessed. Shawn finally heard the Dj weakly call out his name, defeat clear in his tone. Shawn smiled to himself and strolling to the half-open bathroom door, mockingly knocking on it as he entered. The Dj had slumped all the way down into the tub, head resting on the side, legs shaking a bit, arms wrapped around himself. He looked up at Shawn with annoyance in his eyes, the clown smirking back. </p>
  <p><em>“Want help?” </em> </p>
  <p>
    <em>“Fuck you.”</em>
  </p>
  <p><em>“So, That’s a no?” </em>Sid glared at him, nose scrunched up in frustration. </p>
  <p>Sid grumbling something that sounded vaguely like <em>Please</em> and scowling up at the older man, Shawn raising an eyebrow. </p>
  <p>
    <em>“Hmmm? What was that?” </em>
  </p>
  <p><em>“Please help me get out of his God-Forsaken tub, you old fuck!” </em>Shawn smiled, taking only a moment to look the Dj up and down, who was sitting stark naked in the empty bathtub. Sid’s hair was plastered to his neck, face fluster a light red color that carried down to his chest. The Dj’s tattooed arms wrapped tightly around himself, fingers digging into his own freckled skin. Shawn's eye softened a bit when his eye traced down the Dj’s left side and down his thigh, A massive ugly bruise staining the skin, curling all the way to only a few inches above the Dj’s knee. Near matching on the right side, though that side had a nasty few scrapes that had scabbed over. The Dj’s low legs were bruised as well, but not anywhere as badly, just a few scattered marks that discolored his skin. Shawn admired two matching the inked eagles that Sid had above his knees, before leaning down to hook one arm under and around Sid’s torso and the other under his knees. Sid squeaked and wrapped his arms around Shawn’s neck as he was picked up from the tub. </p>
  <p>Shawn carried the tattooed man out to one of the hotel beds, setting the Dj down on top of the slightly scratchy blankets, Sid grumbling a <em>thank you </em>as the clown pulled the blankets out of the way so Sid could snuggle under them, not seeming to have any plans to actually put on sleep clothes. Sid now damp hair was tangled around his face, Shawn sighing while digging a hair tie out of his pocket to secure the hair in a loose ponytail. Sid smiled up at him mischievously. No matter how annoying he was sometimes, Shawn had to admit the Dj was cute. Shawn made his way over to the other bed, already in his own sleep clothes with long hair tied in a low bun. Climbing up and leaning against the headboard while flipping through the channels on the TV again. Glancing over to see Sid curled fully under the blankets, only a few stray strands of hair visible. The clown getting comfortable on his bed and focusing on the TV, he wasn't ready to fall asleep yet, decided to watch something in the meantime. </p>
  <p>Shawn had been engrossed in a documentary when he saw movement out of the corner of his eye, looking over to see Sid sitting half up in bed. Blanket tucked around his shoulders and hair messy, blinking tiredly at Shawn. The clown could have sworn the Dj had fallen asleep a long while ago, but clearly he had been mistaken. Sid made a grabby motion at Shawn, who raised an eyebrow. Sid looked annoyed at him, making the motion again. </p>
  <p><em>“Come ‘ere,” </em>Shawn groaned at the Dj’s sleepy voice. The clown made a huffing sound as he got off his bed to make his way over to the Dj, who looked content as he flopped back down on the bed and lifted up the blankets so Shawn could get under them. Thick arms wrapping around the Dj’s waist and pulling him to Shawn’s chest. Sid made a happy noise as he felt a calloused hand press to his stomach, Shawn’s breathing tickling his ear as they settled into a comfortable position together. </p>
  <p>Shawn blinked groggily, eyes falling shut, only to quickly snap open against as he felt the Dj’s ass press against his groin. Shawn pinched the skin of the Dj’s stomach, making the other man twitch. </p>
  <p><em>“ ‘m not fucking you tonight,”  </em>The Dj groaned and tried to grind his hips back against Shawn again as if that would change the clown’s mind. </p>
  <p><em>“Pleeeeaase, It’ll help me fall asleep,” </em>Shawn snorted, it was true the Dj often passed out directly after they fucked, his tattooed body giving out, but Shawn was too tired tonight. And Sid was already bruised to high heaven. </p>
  <p><em>“No. I’m tired,” </em>Sid made a displeased noise, trying to escape Shawn’s arms and pushing the blankets off them in the process. The older man sighing, dragging the Dj back to his chest. His hand digging into the skin of Sid’s hip, not hard, but hard enough to make the Dj yelp and stop struggling. Shawn hummed into the Dj’s shoulder as his hand massaged at the bruised flesh of the younger man’s hip. Sid choked out a gasp while the clown snaked an arm under him, hand coming up to grope at the tattooed chest. The Dj moaning as he pinched a pink nipple between his fingers. </p>
  <p>Sid gasped when Shawn slid a hand over the bruised hip and started to palm a hand over the tattooed man’s hardening cock. Tattooed hands twisting in the blankets, leg muscles twitching while the clown squeezed hard at the Dj’s chest. Shawn, even though he was quite tired, thoroughly enjoyed the way Sid felt and sounded beneath his fingers. The Dj’s naked skin blistering and drool leaking from his slack jawed mouth. Shawn scratches his nails across the tattooed chest, getting Sid to cry out and wriggle in his grip. </p>
  <p><br/>
<br/>
</p>
  <p>Sid’s hips were grinding against the clown’s thigh, which he had pressed against the Dj’s ass while bit hard at the younger man’s shoulder. The tattooed man’s back arching and gasping out Shawn’s name as the clown bit and sucked at his neck and shoulders, only adding to the amount of discolored and bruised skin the Dj already had. A fist was pumping at the Dj’s cock, the thing leaking and oozing in his calloused hand, he wassn’t interested in edging the Dj tonight, spending hours making the Dj cry, whine, and lose his mind was something the clown was much too tired for, but that didn’t mean he intended to let the Dj off the hook easy. The younger man had dragged him into this, and he would have to pay for it.  </p>
  <p>The room was filled with panting and moaning as Shawn’s hand squeezed hard up the length of the Dj's cock, more pearly precum spilling over the clown’s fingers, Sid’s hips rutting at the thigh against his ass while whimpering. The Dj’s chestnut hair was messy and near comply out of the ponytail Shawn had put it in earlier, a few strands sticking to the Dj’s chin due to the drool leaking from his plump lips. Metallic teeth occasionally clicked together as he threw his head back against Shawn’s shoulder, and made a choked mewling sound. Shawn’s eyes narrowed, he could tell just by the labored breathing and the way Sid was trembling that the younger man was close, right on the edge. Shawn grazed his nails up the Dj’s oozing shaft, a nail sliding through the slit before leaving the thing twitching and begging to be touched, the clown hand moving to dig into the Dj’s tattooed hip and stop the younger man from grinding his hips against Shawn’s clothes thigh. Desperate sounds escaped Sid’s throat as his head rolled from side to side, hands clawing at the bedsheets, daring to try and moved down to touch himself before Shawn’s hand shot from the Dj’s hip and grabbed the tattooed wrist to pin them to the bed, the clown's other hand that was still wrapped under the younger man’s ribs burying nails into the Dj’s tender flesh. </p>
  <p><em>“Ss-haaaw-wn, p</em><b><em>l</em></b><em>ea-se, pl-l</em><b><em>e</em></b><em>a</em><b><em>s e,</em></b> <b><em>Clooowwnnn,” </em></b>Sid sounded as desperate and needy as ever, his body squirming as Shawn inhaled sharply. The clown pressed to Sid’s back, mouth nipping at the Dj’s pierced ear before growling, </p>
  <p><em>“What do you want, Sidney?” </em>The Dj whimpers out a plea and Shawn's hand left his bruised hip and snaked back to the hard cock between the Dj’s thighs, grabbing just under the head and squeezing hard. Sid body jolting forward. </p>
  <p><em>“P-plea-ase,” </em>Sid choked as Shawn rubbed his thumb up the slit of the twitching cock while nipping at the Dj’s ear again. <em>“L-et me cum,” </em>Sid’s voice broke on the last word as Shawn’s fist was wrapped around him again, knowing just how to make Sidney choke and moan with every stroke. Even at one point reaching down to grope and squeezing the Dj’s testicles, which made Sid let out a high pitched whine. There was no relent nor pause when Sid whimpered out a warning that he was on the edge again, though Shawn already knew that. He could read the Dj’s body better than his own, though the Dj probably still had some secrets Shawn had yet to dig up. The clown growled as he sunk his teeth into the tattoo on the side of Sid’s neck, licking at the inked flesh. Sid was back grinding at Shawn’s thigh and in the same breath thrusting his hips into the rough fingers. </p>
  <p>Shawn bit hard at the tattooed neck as the Dj cried out and writhed in his arms, body arching and trembling as his orgasm crashed over him. Hitched breaths escaping the Dj as his body went limp, Shawn nuzzling into his messy hair with his hand still stroking at the Dj. Sid’s hand trailed down to grab at Shawn’s wrist, choking as the clown released him and pressed his now sticky hand against Sid’s belly, pushing the younger man closer to him. </p>
  <p><em>“Can you sleep now, Sidney?” </em>Shawn’s voice hissed in Sid’s ear and made him exhale sharply, eyes screwed shut. A small smile graced his wet lips, muttering something in response that made Shawn snort as he reached over the Dj and grabbed a loose bed sheet, mopping it over to Dj’s groin in an attempt to clean him up. Finally wiping his own hand with it before throwing it in a hep beside the bed. </p>
  <p>The young Dj cuddled up to the clown’s chest as soon as the blankets were pulled over the both of them. A tattooed hand cupping Shawn’s cheek, the Dj pecking him on the lips before moving down to snuggling into Shawn’s chest, tattooed arms wrapping around the older man’s waist. Shawn reached up to put a hand over the fluffy chestnut hair, a purring sound emitting from Sid’s chest. </p>
  <p><em>“You’re like a fucking cat, I swear,” </em>Sid made a content noise. </p>
  <p><em>“Well then I’m your fucking cat, “ </em>Shawn rolled his eyes, Sid giggling into his shirt. A pause before the Dj spoke again, <em>“Thanks, Shawn.” </em>Shawn grunted. </p>
  <p><em>“Anytime, kitten,” </em>The Dj purring as Shawn ran fingers through the amber hair, the both of them eventually falling asleep.</p>
</div><div class="chapter preface group"><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p>
<p></p><div class="end notes module"><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p>
<p></p></div></div>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>school started again and i wanna die, so updates might be slower sorry 😘</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Burn [Chris & Mick]</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>oh y'know the classic fuck someone so hard they vomit<br/>TW: Vomit and no Aftercare, because Mick is a mean motherfucker sometimes</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>If there was one rule in SlipKnot it was probably: <em> “Don't fuck with Mick,” </em>Okay, maybe there were some others, but they didn’t apply at the moment. Chris had unfortunately broken that rule, he had made the poor decision to fuck with the big guitarist's equipment for a laugh. To be fair it was Sid’s idea, and they were both so far from sober you could have told them the moon wasn't real and they'd probably believe you. But Chris had been the one to actually fuck with the equipment, and his ass would be the one to pay for it. </p><p>It was the next day when Chris’s terrible mistake was discovered, the band in the large recording studio sluggishly getting ready for practice. Nobody else was there, so nobody would stop most of them lighting up cigarettes and drinking to their heart's content, even if it wasn’t even evening yet. Chris had nearly forgotten he and Sid’s late-night escapades at the studio, too busy laying stretched out on a dusty couch that Clown had dragged in from one of the other rooms. Sid was sitting on the other end of the couch, scribbling incoherence in a notebook and muttering to himself as Chris spaced out and stared up at the high ceiling. </p><p>Chris’s peace was suddenly and violently disrupted when a large hand grabbed his shirt collar and wrenched him off the couch, dragging him up. Nearly nose to nose with the electric blue eye guitarist who was leaning down over Chris. Though dark sunglasses shielded his eyes, Chris could feel the waves of rage spilling off the man, flinching when Mick brought him just a tiny bit close to his face. </p><p><em> “Why did you fuck with my shit, dicknose?” </em>Chris swallowed anxiously and tried to sound sure of himself when he replied. </p><p>“<em> I-uh, Didn't,” </em>Mick’s grip on Chris’s shirt tightened. Mick snarled and dragged the percussionist off the couch and forced him to follow him to the small pile of equipment that the Guitarist used. Chris nearly tripped and fell, only to be hauled back up by the other man. The room had gone quiet, all attention focused on the two, some of the eyes filled with sympathy for Chris while others were gleaming with excitement. It was always a show when Mick got mad, as long as you weren’t the target. </p><p>Chris was thrown down in front of one of the boxes that held some equipment covered in dials and knobs. Chris yelped when his knees slammed into the floor and a hand twisted in his hair. Mick knelt down behind him, hand in Chris’s hair forcing the man forward. There was a half-smoked cigarette crushed against one of the machines Chris had no idea the use for, the percussionist lips twitching in a nervous tic as he recognized it as his, the green band around the base evident of that. He was the only one in the band who consistently smoked menthols, and everyone knew that. And most importantly, <em> Mick knew that. </em> Chris swallowed nervously again and bit at his lip, Mick's voice growling out low in his ear. </p><p><em> “I'm gonna ask you again, Dicknose, Why the Fuck did you mess with my shit?” </em>It was very obvious in the guitarist tone of voice that if Chris lied there would be hell to pay. </p><p><em> “ ’m s-sorr-y, Micky,” </em>The bigger man snarled, and wrenched Chris to his feet by his hair, which made the percussionist yelp, his own hands flying up to grip at the guitarist's wrist in a fruitless effort to make the man release him. The other men around the room watched silently as Mick marched Chris toward the exit of the studio. Only stopping as Shawn stepped in front of them, tossing something at Mick, which the guitarist caught easily glancing at it before stuffing it in a pocket. Shawn stepped out of the way,</p><p><em> “Don’t kill him, ‘ight?” </em>Mick snorted at Shawn’s comment and kicked open the doors to the studio, Chris whining and held at his side like a kicked puppy. Watching them go, Corey was giggling under his breath and Joey shot the singer a glare. Shawn looked vaguely worried for their percussionist safety while Jim just got back to tuning his guitar. Craig was as silent as ever, fiddling at one of the sampling rigs he had constructed, Paul sitting next to the silent man, chewing at his lip rings with a bit of worry in his chocolate eyes. They all knew what Mick was like when he was mad, they just hoped they wouldn’t have to find a replacement for 2nd percussionist. </p><p> </p><p>Chris was forced into one of the side rooms, Mick shoving Chris to the ground, the percussionist’s arms coming up to break his fall. The air knocked out of him as he lay on the floor on his stomach, yelping when he felt hands grip at his hips, right above his thighs, Chris being pulled up so he was half propped up on his knees, chest still pressed to the ground. Mick was knelt between the percussionist's legs, hands only briefly squeezing at Chris’s thighs before hooking fingers in the percussionist’s jeans and wrenching them down so the pooled around the man’s bent knees. His underwear had come down too, Mick’s hand returning to Chris’s now bare hips and digging his fingers in, getting a small whimper in return. The percussionist’s face was turned, cheek pressed to the cold floor, hair messy as he tried to watch Mick as best he could as the bigger man moved a large hand off of Chris’s hip to grab something out of his pocket. </p><p>There was no hesitation when Mick forced Chris’s knees further apart, the percussionist’s shifting to comply while Mick kneaded the fat of Chris's ass. The guitarist spread Chris so he could drizzle not nearly enough lube onto the percussionist entrance. Judging by Chris’s whimper the lube had been cold, the whimper quickly cut off by a sharp yelp when a thick finger was forced into him. The sensation caused Chris to let drool leak from his lips and wet the floor his face was still pressed against. </p><p>As he had subconsciously known as soon as he was dragged from the studio, Mick wasn't going to be too gentle, only bothering to stretch Chris at all so he didn’t have to deal with a potential hospital bill that Shawn would no doubt take out of his paycheck. Chris whimpered loudly again as another finger pushed into him, curling and fucking into him at a rapid pace that made his insides burn. Panting and whimpers filled the air as Mick started to undo his own jeans, fingers still buried deep in Chris. </p><p>The digits invading Chris had pulled away much too quickly for the percussionist liking, not as if he had a say in the matter, settling for groaning and letting his thighs spread a little further as he felt a heavy hand dig into the flesh of his hip. Chris could feel his own dick hard and dripping between his thighs, precum already oozing from the tip and stringing down to the cold floor. The percussionist already knew from Mick’s demeanor the last thing the guitarist was going to worry about was Chris getting a release. Chris was ripped away from his thoughts as a cock pressed against his slick entrance, panting and whimpering ripping from the percussionist's chest as he felt the thing invade him, the now nearly overwhelming fire of his nerves and muscles making his hands ball into white-knuckled fists. </p><p>Mick’s hands had a bruising hold of Chris’s hips, pushing himself deeper and deeper into his bandmate, his only mercy was not slamming fully into the percussionist immediately. Though Chris was still whimpering, tears welling up in his eyes, his inner muscles stretching and trying to accommodate Mick.  Chris was desperately trying to take deep breaths, eyes screwed shut, doing his best to make his body relax. But his attempt was thwarted by Mick bucking hard into him, Chris gagging, more drool leaking from his lips. Mick growling as he finally bottomed out, his hips now pressed firmly to Chris’s, a hand letting go of the percussionist’s hips. Hand splayed out on the percussionist lower back, pushing up the man’s shirt as it rubbed up and down the percussionist lower spine, the man under Mick gasping and doing his best to use all the time Mick gave him to try and let his body adjust. </p><p>Even the small roll of Mick’s hips made Chris choke, cheek still pressed to the floor, shiny wet lips trying to form words as Mick bucked into him a little harder. Both hands back locked in a bruised grip on the percussionist's hips as he made the other man’s body meet his thrusts which were increasing in ferocity, each ripping a throaty moan from Chris. The sound of skin slamming into skin joined Chris’s cries, the percussionist’s hands balled so tight that his nails cut into his palms, the small amount of blood staining and dribbling down his skin. Mick was breathing heavily as he thrust hard into the tight wet heat, the twitching and contracting of Chris’s ill-prepared body making him growl. </p><p>The percussionist's mind was fading in and out, little black spots in the corners of his vision, every nerve in his body felt as if they had been set ablaze. Mick was breathing rapidly behind him, his pace manic and rough, the bigger man not interested in anything but fucking Chris into the floor. Chris could swear he already felt bruises forming on his skin, the tears spilling down his face from his half-lidded eyes, moans escaping his parted lips. Mick bucked his hips especially deep into Chris, the percussionist gagging as he felt his stomach lurch, the angle mixed with the way Mick was pounding into him was going to result in vomit; he could tell. He tried his best to choke out a warning, Mick either not hearing or not caring as his thrusts grew more desperate and crazed while Chris squirmed under him. The percussionist tried his best to steel his stomach, trying not to retch as he wasn't so sure Mick would have not let him choke on his own body fluids. </p><p>Chris’s legs were numb, if not for the guitarist's hands he was sure he would have collapsed long ago, the man still thrusting into him like Chris was his own personal fucktoy. The acid was burning at the percussionist’s throat now, esophagus tightening and his own hand coming to clutch at his mouth, stifling the sounds still escaping it. The final hard animalistic thrusts into Chris made him cry and yowl, his stomach lurching, stomach acid leaving his lips as he tried desperately to spit the vial tasting fluid from his mouth. His mind only half processing the boiling ejaculant that had been spilled inside his guts, Mick’s hips stuttering into him a good few more times. The guitarist not caring about the panting choked noises Chris was making, nor the vomit that spilled from the percussionist. Mick leaning forward over Chris’s body, snarling as he made sure he had finished so far into the other man, the percussionist was sure he would vomit the cum up too.  </p><p>The guitarist's hands racked painfully across Chris’s hips and sides, as the man finally pulled away. Chris mewling as he suddenly felt terribly empty, his insides felt as if they had been beaten and bruised as badly as his hips, where he was sure he would have large handprints appear in the next few days. Chris gasped, as there was nothing left to hold him up, collapsing to the side, stomach acid burning his lips as he looked with bleary eyes up at Mick. Watching as the bigger man ran a hand through his sweaty long black hair, already having tucked himself back in his pants though there was still a wild look in his electric as he eyes met Chris’s gaze. Chris made a pleading truly desperate sound as Mick stood, a heavy boot colliding with Chris’s sensitive side and forcing the percussionist to flop over so he was fully on his back. The percussionist’s chest heaving, arms sprawled out on either side of him and cock still painfully hard against his belly. He almost diluted himself into thinking Mick would reach down and help him finish but no, instead a harsh rubber boot sole dug into his stomach, luckily avoiding his throbbing arousal. The soul pressing into the percussionist’s soft abdomen, Chris tried to get his mouth to work in order to plead for Mick to stop. Instead, all that came out was a gurgled mess as more stomach fluid was expelled from Chris’s body. The percussionist turned his head to the side so he didn’t suffocate as he coughed with difficulty. Not even having the energy left to claw at the guitarist's ankle to try and get the man to stop.</p><p><em> “Don’t ever fuck with my shit again, Chrissy,” </em>The percussionist could barley nod his head, tears spilling down his face. Eyes pleading with the guitarist, trying to nonverbally communicate with the other man that he understood. </p><p>The boot was finally removed from Chris’s belly, the pressure letting up. The percussionist rolled onto his side while his body convulsed and shook, choking up more burning fluid. The guitarist watched with a morbid curiosity behind his eyes. Chris curling in on himself gasping, no more fluid threatening to spill from his lips. He could swear he heard Mick snort as he heard heavy footsteps turn and walk to the door.  Chris, if he had the energy or willpower left in him, would have shouted after the guitarist but he couldn’t. Not right now.  </p><p><br/>
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</p><p>He didn’t know how long he had been curled on the floor, all he knew was this throat was raw and his dick was still pulsating against his belly, begging for release. Chris’s eyes were squeezed shut, his shaking hand trailed down his own side to his sore hip, hands rubbing gently at the red skin there. Finger splaying out and massaging the flesh, Chris making himself squirm while guiding his hand down to his own fucked out asshole. Chris biting his lip hard when he felt fingers traced down the slick still there and rubbing at the sensitive ring of muscle. The walls tensing and twitching around Chris’s fingers as he sunk two into himself, he was definitely fucking lose at this point, hooking his finger against the edge and moving them in quick circles in an effort to bring on his orgasm. </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>Chris’s other hand snaked up and ran fingers over his own wet lips, then pushing gently into his mouth and pressing down against his tongue. The sweet burn of acid made Chris choke again, breathing harsh and fast as he began to fuck his own mouth with a few fingers, reaching them so far back he might as well be trying to make himself vomit again. The fingers left his dripping hole, sliding over his hip again to his begging cock, Chris moaning around his fingers while he squeezed the base of his dick. The first time he had actually gotten a chance to touch it since being thrown unceremoniously on to the cold floor of the side room. Obscene sounds were crawling their way out of Chris, hand stroking fast and hard at his arousal as he drooled around the fingers in his mouth. </p><p>Another wave of foul-tasting fluid burst out of Chris, retching and coughing it onto the floor, only to have his fingers return to his mouth and continue to assault his throat. As if he enjoyed the sensation of the acrid liquid spilling from his guts. His hand only moved faster and more incessantly on his dick while he gagged around his fingers. Getting closer and closer to the edge, his mind reeling, his eyes rolling back into his head and toes curling. Chris’s body writhed and arch as the long-overdue orgasm ripped through him, making his ears ring and eyes crew shut. Every muscle in his body tensed, for a second he couldn’t breathe, lungs trying to remember how to function. Pearly ejaculant spilled from Chris’s flushed dick, coating his still stroking hand and splattering onto the cold floor, joining the mess there from other bodily fluids already present. The frantic movement of the digits in Chris’s mouth finally slowed as some twisted form of bliss washed through his body, the fingers burning deep in his throat no longer moving, though Chris still moaned and slobbered around them. </p><p>If anyone had opened the door to the room they would have seen quite the sight. Chris sprawled out on the floor, legs numb with his pants and underwear around his knees, his ass and the back of his thighs covered in sticky fluid. All bruised sweaty skin and red marks, bloody crescents on his palms were he had dug his nails in. One hand still on his softening cock, the other jammed in his mouth, soaked in spit and vomit, his face smeared with the mixture as well. The floor around him an absolute mess, his shirt most definitely would be thrown in the trash. Bleary eyes squinting open as he tried to breathe properly again, lungs finally remember their job and letting Chris gasp in lungfuls of air, the fingers in his mouth being pulled out slowly, strings of thick drool connecting them to his lips as his hand fell to rest upon the floor. He knew he could stand at the moment, not even having the energy to try, deciding that if any of his bandmates had a problem with him not being at practice they could bring it up with Mick. Chris managed to move an arm up to curl under his head so it was no longer resting against the unforgiving sticky floor. Trying to let his body relax as he shut his eyes, lips still parted with the occasional string of drool dripping from them as his breathing slowed.</p><p>
  <em>Jesus Fucking Christ, he really was a mess. </em>
</p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I'm so sorry Chrissy, I promise one day I'll write something that isn't about you being a masochistic bitch<br/>but yeah, dirty fucking vomit fic eugeegegegege</p><p>please give me ideas &lt;3</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. Chris is a Whore [Chris & Everyone]</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Chris fucks around with everyone, I already technically wrote some so,<br/>enjoy</p><p>luv u Chrissy</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Sid - 0 </p><p>I already wrote one for Sid, it was <em> Acid Eyes </em></p><p> </p><p>Joey - 1 </p><p> </p><p>Chris was drunk. The kind of drunk that makes you do stupid things, like jump off a roof or steal a car. Or maybe even jerk off with your bandmate who was also drunk and wearing a dress that made Chris squirm in his seat. They had been at Paul’s house, or maybe it had been Sid’s, the percussionist couldn’t remember to save his life. All he knew is that someone had been going through closets and found a long black dress, obviously made for someone small, which meant either Joey or Corey was going to be forced to try it on. Corey was too drunk already to even get his own clothes off to be able to get into the dress, so Joey had volunteered. The drummer was tipsy but still had enough competence to strip off his shirt and slip on the dress. It was much too long for him, pooling around his feet, but he flipped his hair over his shoulder and blew a kiss to his bandmates, who were cackling and making obscene comments. Shawn passing a shot of Jack D’s to the small drummer as a consolation. Joey downing it in one go and bowing sloppily. Chris was watching the way the dress flowed over Joey’s body through drunken, bleary eyes, studying the way it even cinched in a bit at the drummer’s waist. Chris shifted a bit looking away from Joey, glancing over to see most of the band was now all cheering as Mick and Shawn were engaged in a drinking competition, the two men glaring at each other. </p><p>The percussionist mumbled something that no one heard as he stood and wandered out of the basement, making his way to the bathroom to try and calm down. He stayed there long enough to quell the arousal in his stomach, splashing his face with cold water a few times before he heard the bathroom door click open behind him, Chris in his drunken state had forgotten to lock the door. Chris spun around to see Joey locking the door behind him as he stepped into the bathroom, a smile on his lips. </p><p>The two of them had ended up hiking up Joey’s dress, the small drummer sitting on the bathroom counter with Chris standing in front of him. The two of them breathing hard as Chris’s hand was wrapped as best it could around their dicks, which were pressed together. Joey slurring out dirty things that made Chris whimper as his hand moved faster around the both of them. Chris reached his climax first and moaned loudly into his other hand which was covering his mouth. Joey, spurred on by Chris, climaxing as well, his dress now stained with his and Chris’s semen. The two of them panting. The alcohol in their systems made them forget about everyone else in the house, including that they would have to explain why they were locked in the bathroom together, and more importantly why Joey now had stains on his dress. But it’s not as if their bandmates would remember after tonight either, they had all been drinking since 3 pm. Mick did end up winning the drinking competition with Shawn, the clown forfeiting after throwing up twice.</p><p>
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</p><p>
  <em> 2 - Paul  </em>
</p><p>Chris had been stripped from his jumpsuit, face paint running down from underneath his mask and onto his bare heaving chest. His arms held behind his back, his own sweaty undershirt tied around the wrists to keep them secure. He was facing Paul, balanced in the man’s lap. The other man was still dressed in his overalls from the show, though the bassist’s mask had been removed and most of the makeup scrubbed off. Paul’s hands trailing up and down Chris’s thighs. </p><p>The percussionist’s shame should have been fucked out of him a long time ago when it came to anyone in Slipknot, but it still made him squirm to think that at any moment someone could unlock the tour bus and walk in to see their escapades. Luckily his mind didn’t dwell on the subject much longer as Paul trapped one of Chris’s flushed nipples between his calloused fingers and pinched. Chris’s body jolted forward a bit, a moan muffled by the mask strapped around his head. Paul was studying Chris with his warm chocolate eyes as he caressed hands down the percussionist’s sides, occasion squeezing at the bruised skin. Chris grit his teeth when Paul massaged the skin around a particularly nasty hickey right above the crux of the percussionist’s left thigh. Paul muttered something, asking Chris who had done that to him, Chris replied that he thought it was probably either Sid or Corey. The bassist leaning forward to kiss softly at the other man’s collarbone, whispering <em> ‘Bastards’ </em> in reference to Chris’s answer, causing a small smile to flicker across the percussionist's lips. </p><p>A trail of kisses and gentle nips lined Chris’s collarbones, hands tracing up and down his thighs again, eventually one of the hands moving to Chris’s erection. The bassist’s fingers were skilled in a way that made Chris gasp and whimper unlike he did with anyone else. The distinct metal rings in the bassist's lip pressed to the side of Chris’s neck as Paul kissed at the sweaty skin, one hand touching and tracing the percussionist’s ribs and upper back, the other working another pitched moan out of Chris. Paul had started to mutter praises and little compliments to Chris, breath tickling the percussionist skin. Chris’s hips rolling into the bassist's touches with an especially throaty moan spilling from his lips, Paul's words making his heart swell and stomach churn. Already teetering on the edge, Chris’s skin was flushed. His body had been begging for release as soon as the bassist had started to touch him when removing Chris’s jumpsuit, and it didn't seem like Paul was going to stave off Chris’s orgasm for much longer. Chris’s hips rolled and bucked, Paul's finger rubbing just below the head of the percussionist’s cock that never failed to make Chris moan and tremble. </p><p>Teeth and hands and soft whispers pushed Chris to his climax. Body tensing, his insides twisting as while Paul nipped at Chris’s neck and stroked the other man through his release. Sticky fluid coating Chris’s belly and Paul’s hand, the bassist letting go of Chris to wipe the hand on his coverall pant leg. Chris managing to hold himself up as Paul undid the buckles of the mask strapped around the percussionist's head, setting it aside as Chris collapsed against him, breathing heavily. The percussion face was stained with face paint, the makeup cut by tear trails, the tears not from pain as they so often were and instead from pleasure. Tan hands wrapping around Chris is a comforting hug, and working at the shirt tied around the percussionist’s wrist, after undoing it coming up to pet Chris’s head. A grateful sigh escaping Chris’s lips as his arms dropped to his sides. Paul chuckled, only pulling Chris away from his resting place to plant a kiss on the percussionist’s sweaty cheek before letting the tired man nuzzle back against his shoulder. Chris making a happy sound, feeling secure in the bassist’s arms. </p><p> </p><p>
  <em> 4 - Jim Root </em>
</p><p> </p><p>Jim had a habit of being quite cuddly when he was drunk, something Chris would learn quickly once they got on the road together and he couldn’t escape Jim’s long arms when on the tour bus. The tall man drunkenly muttered things as he wrapped his arms around whoever was closest and refusing to let go unless convinced by either violence or sleep. Everyone had to put up with it at least once, Chris had even seen Mick sat with his arms crossed and annoyance in his eyes, Jim’s arms wrapped around him in a steely grip. Chris was sure the only reason the broad guitarist hadn’t ripped Jim off of him was that no one else was around and Jim was already half asleep. Chris quickly escaping back to his bunk as to not incur Mick’s wrath. </p><p>Chris had been napping on one of the green room couches when Jim had stumbled drunkenly into the room, judging by his ability to still control his legs he wasn't too drunk but was drunk enough to go into his<em> ‘im going to hug you and babble in your ear and your going to fuckin deal with it’ </em>mode. Chris was jostled awake by someone dragging him into their lap, not even bothering to protest as he heard Jim mumble something unintelligible, and nuzzled the side of Chris’s neck. Jim's long arms locked around the percussionist's middle, a hand playing with the fabric of his worn-out old t-shirt. Chris closed his eyes again, he wasn’t going to fight the taller man, and he needed the sleep anyway. </p><p>Chris was on the brink of sleep again when his eye shot open and he let out a pitched squeaking sound. Jim’s hand was palming hard at his crotch, and the guitarist muttered something in reaction to the sound Chris had made. Chris panted as the guitarist doubled his efforts, undoing Chris’s jeans and sliding a large hand into to grope the percussionist through his boxers. Jim actually was able to mumble something coherent about whether or not Chris wanted this, the shorter man only nodding yes as the guitarist ground his own hips against Chris’s ass. </p><p>Jim, though drunk, gave quiet good hand jobs as Chris would soon discover. The guitarist knew exactly where and how to touch in order to make Chris squirm and moan in his lap. Chris ended up fucking himself on Jim’s dick, the guitarist’s hands still working at the percussionist, Chris moaning like a cheap whore the whole time. Jim’s drunken speech slurring even more when they both reach their orgasms, Chris crying out as his hips slammed down and large hands gripped at his sides. Jim grunting and spilling deep inside the percussionist. </p><p>Chris was only slightly annoyed when he remembered he now had to go find a shower, Jim kissing his forehead as an apology before passing out on the couch. Chris tried to freshen himself up just a bit before having to venture out with a limp and ask where he could find a place to get clean. Only cursing Jim a tiny bit. </p><p> </p><p>5 - Craig Jones</p><p> </p><p>They were sharing a grimy hotel room, Chris getting back later than the sampler. He’d been smoking with Sid and was in a giggly mood, playfully smacking Craig’s ass when he passed by on the way to his own bed. The sampler eyes narrowing, shooting Chris a warning glare. Chris only winked, giggling as he jokingly dared the sampler to do something. Well, it had been a joke, but Chris had ended up collapsed and whimpering on one of the hotel beds, Craig’s fingers deep inside him, other hand around his leaking dick. Teasing and edging the percussionist until he was gagging and crying for Craig to let him come. The sampler did not take pity on the poor man below him until Chris could barely speak, incoherent babbling all that could be heard from his throat, body limp, and shuddering. Chris nearly passed out when the sampler finally curled and pressed his fingers against the percussionist’s prostate again and again, making Chris’s hips uncontrollably jolt, and at the same moment stroking hard and fast at Chris’s flushed dick. No longer relenting when Chris’s body was about to reach its peak, and instead of letting the long-held back bliss crash into Chris like a runaway 18-wheeler. Tears spilling down Chris’s face, throat raw, skin boiling; slick with his own sweat and ejaculant. </p><p>Craig was petting the side of Chris’s face as the percussionist’s tried to recover. Kissing the percussionist on the cheek, his hand cupping the other man’s jaw, while Chris whimpered. Craig whispered a few choice words to the percussionist, that despite his foggy mind, made Chris’s face burn and shaky hands come up to try and hide his face. Craig pecking Chris right below the ear before pulling away and smiling, running fingers down the salty skin of Chris’s abdomen. Eventually, Chris collected himself enough to stand up, Craig helping him to the shower. Chris promising to himself that he should dare Craig to do things more. Craig had a satisfied smirk on his face as he helped his bandmate into the shower. </p><p> </p><p>6 - The Clown</p><p> </p><p>Already wrote one for Clown, it was <em> Chrissy Fucks up  </em></p><p> </p><p>7 - Mick ‘Fuck round and Find Out’ Thomson </p><p>Already wrote a chapter for Micky, it was <em> Burn </em></p><p>8 - Corey</p><p>Chris was sure he was going to die. At least he would die happy, with Corey bouncing up and down on his dick, Chris’s hands digging into the singer's muscled thighs. Corey threw his head back, moans forced out of his throat, strands of fluffy golden hair sticking to his sweaty face. Chris’s own grunts and whines joining Corey, as the both of them relished the sensations. </p><p>Corey was straddling Chris, one hand stroking his own dick to match the speed of his hips, the other planted between Chris’s legs to help him balance. Chris hips bucking upwards a few times into Corey as he felt the singer tense around him, hips slamming into Chris’s only increasing their pace. The feeling of the twitching muscle in Corey’s thighs was making Chris drool, he did love the singer’s legs, his fingernails digging into the pale skin. A memory flooded back to him when he had been forced to eat the singer out while the man’s legs were wrapped around his head to lock him in place. Chris whining at the memory as his hips bucked up into Corey, the singer gasping and moaning out the percussionist’s name. Hand in a blur around his own dick as the movements of his hips faltered, crying out loudly as he climaxed and spilled pearly semen on himself as well as over Chris’s abdomen. Chris followed suit a few seconds later, his back arching as he bucked into the singer, his fingers clawing down Corey’s thighs, sure to leave marks. The singer biting at his lip and trailing hands down Chris’s chest as he watched in a post-orgasm haze as the percussionist moaned the singer’s name, Chris’s mouth making sinful compliments that his brain probably wasn't aware of. </p><p>The singer leaning down to kiss the countless dark hickeys that discolored Chris’s throat and chest, Chris muttering gibberish, his hand now rubbing up and down Corey’s thighs. Corey chuckled, flopping to the side off of the man below him, Chris making a strangled sound. The sheets around them coated in a sticky mess that they didn’t seem inclined to clean up at the moment, instead Corey wrapping arms around Chris’s head and hugging the percussionist to his sweaty tattooed chest. Chris arms going back to trace patterns into Corey’s thighs and lower back. The singer petted Chris’s hair and hummed as their bodies started to relax, and Chris starting to feel the new bruises that no doubt would be sore tomorrow. </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>y'know? not terribly long but it was fun<br/>and I was too lazy to write full chapters for each one</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0008"><h2>8. Chris is a Whore [ Part 2. ]</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Hey, Did anyone ask for part 2 of Chris being a whore? No? Well, here it is anyway =]</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em> Shame wasn't the biggest concern in the mansion. Being prudish was a trait few of the nine men possessed, and any who did quickly learned that even if they didn’t feel like engaging in deviant behavior right in the middle of the fucking living room didn't mean that others wouldn’t. After all, who would stop them? </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <strong> <em>1.</em> </strong>
</p><p> </p><p>Chris was gagging around a dick that was buried deep in his throat. Eyes rolling up into the back of his head, a hand locked in his hair, forcing the percussionist’s head up and down at a rapid pace. Chris was knelt before one of the living room couches, Corey shamelessly bucking into his mouth. The singer had decided that the one thing he had wanted this morning was Chris’s mouth, and the percussionist wasn't going to deny him, putting up little resistance as the shorter man kissed at his neck and convinced Chris to get on his knees. And now Chris was happily sucking dick at 10 in the morning, well as happy as you can be choking and moaning with drool dripping down your chin. </p><p>Corey was making a lot of noise as he always was, both hands now holding Chris’s head still as he fucked into the percussionist’s warm slack-jawed mouth. Chris’s own arms limp at his sides, body letting Corey do what he wanted. The singer cried out loudly, growling while thrusting his hips a final few times into the willing mouth. Chris feeling warm ejaculant spill down his throat, swallowing as best he could around the singer's pulsating cock. Whimpering while Corey pulled hard at his hair, and held Chris so the percussionist couldn’t move away to breathe yet. Only letting the percussionist go when the singer collapsed back into the couch, his body buzzing with his post-orgasm high. Chris gasping for air and sitting back between Corey’s legs, the percussionist’s lips pink and swollen in a pretty way, tongue poking out of his mouth as his breaths steadied. A mixture of spit and cum dripping off the percussionist’s chin. </p><p>Jim had been quietly watching the two; a mug held in his hand with coffee that had long since gone cold, his focus on the display on the other side of the couch. His own dick now throbbing in his jeans while his eyes followed Chris’s tongue as the percussionist’s licked his lips. Jim’s legs moving just slighter further apart at their own accord. Though Corey had noticed Jim’s behavior, a smile playing across his face while he locked a hand back in Chris’s hair and turned the percussionists head towards Jim. Big watery blue eyes looking up at Jim in a way that made the guitarist's guts twist.</p><p> The blonde leaning down to whisper something in Chris’s ear that made the man still knelt in front of him whimper, nodding like an overexcited puppy. Corey leaned back and cast a grin in Jim’s direction, though the tall man didn’t see as his eyes were locked at Chris who was crawling over to him and settling in between the guitarist's long legs, moving them apart more so he could get comfortable. Quick hands undoing the jeans and pulling Jim’s almost fully hard dick out of its confines. Jim grunting when Chris mouthed up the side, licking at the tip as he locked eyes with Jim, the guitarist’s hand moving to pet the side of the percussionist’s face, Jim’s other hand setting down the coffee mug so he didn’t end up spilling it everywhere. Chris’s head moved down, managing to take Jim halfway into his mouth in one movement, which made Jim moan, his hand twisting in Chris’s hair. He could feel Chris’s tongue press and rub to the underside of his dick while the percussionist moved further down, hollowing out his cheeks in order to make the man above to groan. </p><p>Sloppy wet sounds filled the living room air as Chris continued to gag and suck around Jim. The guitarist's large hand petting the side of Chris’s head, his focus only pulled away from the percussionist when a different body pressed to his side, a mouth kissing none too gently at his neck. Jim felt a hand snake under the hem of his shirt and pushed it up as fingers trailed up his abdomen. Chris only paused for a second, His hand stroking at Jim’s dick as he glanced up at the two men. Corey nipping at Jim's neck and scratching red trails down the guitarist's chest, Jim’s eyes bleary as his head tilted to the side to let Corey bite right under his pierced ear. Chris shifting a bit of the floor as he lowered his mouth back down to suck at Jim’s dick, he could tell the guitarist was close due to the groans from the tall man and the way his long legs were shaking. Muscles spasming when Chris used to tongue to rub just under the head of Jim’s cock. </p><p><br/>
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</p><p>Chris was moaning, the reverberations making Jim squirm as his dick was rooted all the way down the percussionist’s throat. His hips bucking as Corey nipped at Jim’s neck growling filth into his ear, and Chris doing his damndest to make the guitarist climax as soon as possible. Jim grunting loudly, legs tensing and thighs squeezing hard around Chris. The percussionist moaning, his nose buried in the curly brown pubic hair while a hand twisted in his scalp. Salty sweetness flooded down his throat, Chris trying to relax so he didn’t end up choking, breathing hard through his nose as he felt the cock in his mouth twitch in its orgasm. Finally the hand in his hair yanking him back off the softening dick. Chris gasping, eyes rolling into the back of his head, mouth slack and muscles of his jaw sore, lips shiny and dripping with a mixture of two different men’s ejaculant. </p><p>He was sitting back with his legs folded under him, thighs spread against and his own erection throbbing between his legs, he could swear he was on the edge just from having cocks down his throat, he could almost hear Shawn purring in his ear about how much of a whore he was, which only made a shiver run up Chris’s spine, his eye screwing shut. A thick string of drool dripped from his chin, a hand cupping his face, a thumb caressing across the cheekbone. He could hear Corey purr out how good Chris had been to he and Jim, the guitarist making a noise of agreement. Chris’s hands were fisted in his worn jeans, head tilting so he could nuzzle into the soft touches along his cheekbone. </p><p>Then he heard Corey call out to someone, Chris too much in his own head to make out what the singer had shouted, a different voice shooting back and Corey chuckling. A hand moving to hold Chris’s chin and tilt his head up, The percussionist's eyes blinking half-open, a mewling sound escaping Chris’s raw throat as his eyes met Corey’s. The singer had a wicked grin on his face, a curl of brightly candy floss hair hanging down in front of his eyes. </p><p>
  <em> “Think you can handle another cock down your throat this morning, Chrissy?”  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <strong> <em>2.</em> </strong>
</p><p> </p><p>Chris’s world consisted of a cruel and unforgiving mix of pain and pleasure. His body wracked with heavy desperate breaths, every nerve in his body screaming as teeth bit hard into the flesh of his thigh, drawing blood. He was begging, though his own mouth couldn’t exactly make much noise, only gargled sounds and vague whimpering escaping his swollen lips. A hard rubber bit shoved between his jaws, like one you would use for a horse, along with a blindfold tied security over his eyes. The rubber bit preventing any coherent pleas from Chris, reducing him to moans and whimpers. His head was thrown back against a pillow, chestnut hair sweaty and sticking to his face and around his head in a halo, with his arms tied in thick rope and stretched out above his head. </p><p>Another wave of drool slicked Chris’s chin as he cried out, abdominal muscles tensing hard as a large hand reached down and pushed the toy a bit further into Chris. The cold metal sitting heavy in the percussionist, it felt so cold that Chris could swear it was made of ice. His stomach churned when the base of the plug was pulled teasingly, as if the man above him would get the thing out of him, only pulling it out far enough for Chris to think he actually would do it before letting it settle back into Chris’s abused body, prompting Chris to roll his head back and forth on the pillow. The plug only reminded him of the mess currently residing in his guts, the mixture of his bandmates ejaculant stewing in his belly. Chris didn’t know which of the men had fucked his brains out, he barely remembered how many had even done so. All he knew was that the memory made him squirm, his dick getting harder if that was even possible at this point. </p><p><br/>
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</p><p>The percussionist could feel his thigh muscles twitching as his legs tried to close, though the metal bar between them prevented this. The bar had leather straps that looped around Chris’s legs right above the knee that kept him spread wide, vulnerable to the hands, mouth, and cock of anyone who wanted it. His legs were bent up towards his chest, calloused hands massaging the back of his thighs as a soft lipped mouth sucked another hickey into the sensitive skin of Chris’s inner thigh. The mouth finding its way to Chris’s arousal, the entire length flushed crimson with beads of precum dribbling down its length. Tongue trailing up, the metal piercing in it making Chris shiver, the head of his dick was taken into the warm soft mouth, that same devious piercing making Chris shiver again when it was used skillfully to tease the tip of his cock. Chris swore Paul had made a deal with the devil to make the bassist so good with his tongue. </p><p>Chris was writhing, his body desperate for any sort of release, fingers flexing as if they were trying to rip the cockring at the base of his dick off.  Chris screwing his eyes shut, his back arching as Paul deepthroated him again and hummed, making vibrations that ran from Chris’s groin all the way up his spine. </p><p>His body jolting as the mouth left him, both a blessing and a curse as hands squeezed the back of Chris’s sensitive thighs. Even if Chris couldn’t see him, he could feel Paul’s eye tracing down his shivering body. A smile playing on the bassist's lips when he pinched especially hard at the skin of Chris’s inner thigh, making the man below him whine. </p><p><em> “Have you been good, Chrissy?” </em>A frantic nod in response, Chris’s arms straining against the ropes as Paul’s hands ran up and down Chris’s thighs. Paul humming, tracing a finger along Chris’s erection, the thing laying heavy and begging against the percussionist’s belly. Paul tilted his head to the side, reached up an arm to unhook the buckle that kept the rubber bit in Chris’s mouth. If the percussionist could still make his mouth form words, he was able too now. Chris whimpered and licked his lips, breathing hard before he made an effort to actually speak, his voice scratchy and weak. </p><p><em> “P-please. . . </em> <b> <em>Paulie</em> </b> <em> . . .” </em>A soft smile still on Paul's face as he scratched his nails across Chris’s ribs and down to his hip. Making Chris snivel, biting at his lip. Paul rubbed a finger over a small tattoo adorning the skin right above the bone of Chris’s left hip. A Four with a circle around it; someone, probably Sid judging by the sharp teeth marks, had bitten right around it. Ringing the tattoo in red bloody skin. Chris whimpering when Paul's finger ghosted over the teeth marks. </p><p>The bassist’s mind had already been settled. Finger on the base of the plug buried in Chris, moving it in a circle to make the other man squirm, oversensitivity burning at his nerves. Teasing, like he had before, Paul pulled at the plug, even twisting it inside the shivering man. His other hand was working at removing the rubber ring at the base of Chris’s erection. Chris finally understood what was going to happen, chest heaving as he felt his dick free from the thing that had kept his orgasm away from him for so long. Chris cried out when the plug was finally wrenched all the way out of him, only to be replaced swiftly by three long calloused fingers. The mixture that had been kept deep in his belly spilling out, making a mess around him. The percussionist's back arching, the leather straps around his lower thighs cut into his skin as his legs strained against them. The slick of cum that had been fucked inside of Chris earlier let Paul’s fingers slide easily in and out of the percussionist’s trembling body. Chris’s tongue was lulling out of the side of his mouth, every thrust of Paul’s fingers making him choke out a moan. His insides on fire. Paul’s fingers left him, making Chris gag out a strangled plea as Paul examined his slick coated fingers, moving two apart to see the strings of liquid that strung between them. Then the slick soaked hand was around Chris’s cock, a high pitched whine ripping from Chris’s throat as Paul stroked him a few times to cover his shaft in the mixture before letting go again. </p><p>Chris was muttering Paul’s name and rolling his head back as the fingers sunk back into him. Paul’s other hand moved to stroke at Chris’s dick. If Chris’s mind hadn’t been fucked out before, it certainly was now. His toes curling, mouth drooling out curses and moans as his insides tied themselves in boiling tangles. With every thrust of Paul’s hand, Chris was edging closer and closer to his long-held off orgasm. Paul could tell, watching the way Chris writhed with each and every movement of the bassist’s hands. Arms pulling against the restraints as Paul curled his finger inside of Chris, hitting his prostate again and again. </p><p><br/>
And then, it hit him harder than a fucking train. Chris’s whole body tensed and shook. Every nerve ending burning as shocks of white-hot pleasure ripped through him, mind going completely blank. Milky fluid splattering onto his belly, and onto Paul’s hand, which had refused to let up and kept squeezing and jerking at the percussionist's cock until the aftershocks made Chris’s body twitch and go limp. Chris’s body tightening around the fingers still in him, the slick and heat of his inner walls made Paul bite at his piercings, smiling as he relented and pulled his fingers out of the shuddering body below him. A breathy moan coming from Chris’s chest, though he doubted the percussionist was aware of anything anymore.  Both Paul’s hands withdrew from Chris, first wiping them on the bed before going to fiddle with the leather straps around the percussionist's lower thighs. Undoing them and removing the metal bar that had kept the percussionist’s legs spread and guiding each of Chris's limp limbs down onto the bed, ghosting fingertips over the red cuts from where the leather straps had bitten into the pale skin. Taking a moment to admire Chris’s limp and fucked out form. Pierced lips in a soft smile. </p><p> </p><p>Chris could feel the thick ropes around his wrists being untied. His arms lifted and set by his sides, his fingertips felt numb and tingly. Finally, the blindfold was removed, blinking hard Chris decided it was better to just let his eyes fall closed again. He was deadly tired, his body exhausted and his mind much the same. He felt someone kiss his cheekbone, Chris tilting his head towards the kiss as if asking for another. A sigh then another kiss, this time on his still wet lips, Paul chuckling when Chris made a happy sound in his chest, a tired but satisfied expression on the percussionist’s face. Paul gently pets the other man’s hair. </p><p>
  <em> “Pretty as ever, Chrissy,” </em>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>heheheh i have more planned, just yall wait ehehehhehehheeee</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0009"><h2>9. Paulie's Piercings [Corey & Paul]</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>no i don't have an explanation beyond I like piercings and needed to write something for these two ;)<br/>obviously no disrespect, luv u paulie 😘</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Corey was giggling madly as he dangled half out of the open window, one leg slung out and hanging over the drop off of the apartment building, the other folded on the bed underneath the window. Back pressed to the window frame, a cigarette hanging loosely in his fingers and he giggled like a madman, fluffy hair falling in his face. He was still chuckling as he took a long drag off the cigarette and blew the grayish smoke out into the late evening sky. Paul was sitting beside him on the bed, leaning against the wall and smiling with a joyous glint in his eyes. Music blaring in the background as the both of them exchanged banter back and forth as the sky got darker and Corey puffed away on cigarettes. The banter died down into a comfortable silence as they enjoyed each other's company. </p><p>Paul had his bass in his lap, plucking at the strings, brows furrowing when he played something that didn’t sound quite right, Corey fascinated with the other man’s hands, watching as his fingers repeated the notes until Paul was satisfied with the sound. The dark-haired man glancing up to see Corey staring at his bass intently. Paul snorting, </p><p>“You wanna try?” Corey snapped out of his trance to shake his head, taking another drag of the half-smoked cigarette between his fingers. </p><p>“Hell no, can’t bend my pinkie finger like your weird-ass can.” Corey’s cig caught between his teeth in a grin as he wiggled his fingers in Paul's direction. The bassist snorted with a smile on his face as he flipped Corey off. The singer snickering. </p><p>“I don't have a weird pinkie,”</p><p>“Ya fuckin’ do, basically bend the thing at a fuckin’ 90-degree angle,”</p><p>“Hey, watch it piss freak,” Corey cackled, Paul rolling his eyes and grinning, watching as Corey's legs swung wildly outside the window as he laughed. “You’re gonna fall out the fuckin’ window, dumbass,” Corey only smirked.</p><p>“Yeah, yeah, Whatever,” The singer tilted his head, looking at the drop outside the window. “Think I could make it, only like two or three stories?” Plucking the cigarette from his lips, he held it out the window, holding it in two fingers and using his thumb to hit it’s side so a few ashes broke off and fell, little orangish sparks dropping down before fizzling out. </p><p>“What, gonna start doing stunts like Sid? Jumpin’ in front of moving cars, lighten yourself on fire, n’ stripping naked while running from the police?” </p><p>“You’d enjoy watchin’ me run naked from the police,” Paul's face got a small dusting of pink at that comment, looking down to strum the string of his bass to avoid looking at Corey, who was still staring out the window.  </p><p>“Love to see you get tackled while screaming bloody murder and thrown in a cruiser.” The singer clutched his free hand to his chest, looking at Paul as if the bassist had just made a rude comment about Corey’s grandmother.</p><p>“Paulie! How dare you say they’d catch me!” His voice in mock-offense as Paul snickered. </p><p> </p><p>The cig in Corey’s mouth was almost burned all the way through when it was finally crushed against the window sill, the singer electing to hike his leg back through the window and roll onto the bed before he actually did manage to fall and crack open his skull on the sidewalk outside the apartment. Laying on his side at the end of the bed, he would have liked to sprawl out across the whole thing but Paul’s legs were in the way, Corey tempted to swat at them to see if the bassist would move. Which Paul didn’t, only cocking an eyebrow. </p><p>“Move,” </p><p>“Why? You tryin’ to get comfortable?”</p><p>“Mhm, now fuckin’ move you bastard,” Paul sneered, setting his bass on its stand beside the bed. </p><p>“Nah, ‘s my bed,” Corey groaned at Paul’s refusal, narrowing his eyes at the bassist, who had crossed his arms and was looking unjustifiably smug. The singer sat up, narrowing his eyes before swinging his legs off the bed and making a show of strolling toward the door.</p><p>“The hell you goin’, Cor?”</p><p>“Imma piss on your shoes!”</p><p>“What are you, a fuckin’ dog?” Corey looked over his shoulder and winked, disappearing behind the door frame as Paul let out a heavy sigh and moved to get off the bed in order to stop the blonde from causing more general chaos in the apartment. Paul didn’t know how many times he’d had to buy new silverware after Corey came over. Like seriously, who feels the need to steal seven forks. </p><p> </p><p>Paul had dragged Corey back to the bedroom, the singer giggling the whole way back. Corey flopped back onto the bed face down, only rolling over onto his back to wriggle out of his t-shirt, Paul didn’t even bother to question it. He knew the singer couldn’t stand to sleep with shirts on for whatever reason. Though he did end up staring at the singer’s pierced chest, he had forgotten the blonde had rings through his nipples, well actually only one of them, And no, that fact certainly didn’t make Paul’s face a bit red, if only for a second.  </p><p> </p><p>Corey had ended up curling half on Paul’s lap, head resting on the bassist's thigh, body stretched out between Paul’s legs. The taller man had simply leaned up against the wall again, as Corey got comfortable in his lap. Paul’s hands had ended up petting at Corey’s reddish-gold hair, scratching at the singer's scalp making the man in the bassist’s lap let out a happy sound and shift so he was even closer to the bassist. It wasn't Paul’s intention to at one point let his finger slide down and trace the tattoo on the side of Corey’s neck, but it's not as if the singer complained. The blonde moving again so he was laying more on his back to allow the calloused fingers to caress the skin across his collarbones and shoulders, the other hand still tangled in his hair. As Corey had moved, Paul's eyes had caught the single piercing that had glimmered in the low light of the room, a streak of amused confusion crossing his face. </p><p>“Why do you only have one of those?” Corey groaned in response, annoyed that Paul had paused his touches in lieu of asking a question. The singer mumbled something that sounded like, <em> ‘Because I can’, </em>and cracked an eye open to glare up at the other man. Paul cocked an eyebrow, smiling down at Corey who still seemed annoyed that the bassist had stopped petting him for even a second. </p><p>“Shouldn’t judge me, Mister metal rods through my Dick,” Paul chuckled as Corey nuzzled into the hand on the singer's head in an effort to get Paul to start petting him again. </p><p>“Well, you sure did seem to enjoy ‘em up when they were up your ass,” Corey made a wheezing sound and slapped Paul’s thigh as the bassist grinned at him.</p><p>“Bastard,” </p><p>“Awe, don't worry, Cor, you sounded lovely,”</p><p>“Yeah, yeah, fuck you,” Corey grumbled as Paul’s hands resumed their movements. The singer only had a vague memory of the first time the two of them had actually fucked, he guessed it was probably in a grimy hotel room and that they were probably both drunk, him more so than Paul, as the man actually had a decently sound memory of the event. Corey felt a twinge of heat in his guts when he remembered multiple metal piercings rubbing at his insides and making him moan like a cheap whore. An unconsciously sharp breath escaping from his lips, which made Paul’s ears perk up. His fingers ghosting back up the singer’s neck and across his jaw, then back down to his collar bones and tattooed chest, nails lightly grazing the skin. Corey’s face flushing, his own hands coming up to cover his face. Paul taking a chance and hauling the singer up and into his lap, Corey’s naked back pressing to Paul’s chest, their legs tangling together.</p><p>Corey made a surprised sound but quickly settled into Paul’s lap as hands grazed down his flanks, Paul’s cheek pressed to the side of Corey's head, nuzzling the soft reddish-gold curls. A tan finger tracing one of the smiley face tattoos right above the hem of Corey’s jeans, a shiver running up Corey’s spine. The other hand trailing up to gently tug at the ring pierced through the singer’s nipple, his breathing now the slightest bit unsteady as the hand massaged at his chest. Paul humming in his ear. </p><p><em> “Enjoyin’ this?” </em>The blonde nodding, his hands grabbing at the fabric of the bassist's pants, head tilting back to rest on the other man’s shoulder. Adam's apple bobbing as he swallowed hard when the hand not on his chest snaked down to palm him through his jeans. Corey rocked his hips into the touch, gasping as he felt the bulge in the bassist's pants push against his ass, Paul grunting in his ear, the hand squeezing hard between Corey’s thighs in retaliation. Fingers undoing the zipper of the singer’s jeans, at the same moment other hand tugging and rolling Corey’s pierced nipple between its digits. A sharp exhale from the blonde as his dick was freed from his boxers, tan fingers hooking at its base, hips trying to buck up to get more friction. Paul’s voice growled in Corey’s ear. </p><p>
  <em> “What’d you want, Cor?”  </em>
</p><p><em> “I wanna feel those fuckin’ piercings in me again, you ass,” </em>Corey hissed out, Paul chuckling as he side both his hands to hook in the waistband of Corey’s jeans and underwear to drag them down, the singer helping. Finally untangling them from his legs and throwing them off the bed, so he was left completely naked in the bassist's lap, the man’s tan fingers tracing the lines and curves of his bare body, making him gasp. He managed to turn around so his chest and pressed to Paul’s, legs straddling him, making a noise of confusion when he discovered Paul was grinning like a madman down at him. </p><p><em> “The fucks so funny?” </em>The bassist could see annoyance in Corey’s blue eyes, raising his hands to caress Corey’s side,  the other cupping the singer’s face. A soft smile still on his lips. </p><p>“Maybe when we're done this time you won't insist I go buy you fuckin’ chicken strips,” Corey's face went red, muttering curses at himself under his breath. Paul leaning in to kiss the tip of his nose, <em> “It was adorable, Cor,” </em>Corey trying to look anywhere but at the bassist, trying to pull away only to have lips crashed into his, it only taking a second for the singer to reciprocate and tilt his head to deepen the kiss. Moaning into Paul’s mouth as he looped arms around the bassist’ neck and pulled them close, the other man's hand settled on the singer’s hips and squeezed at the flesh there. Corey had forgotten about the tongue piercing that the bassist possessed until he wormed his own tongue into Paul’s mouth and tasted the slightly metallic sting of the thing, only encouraging him to try and shove his tongue even further down the bassist’ throat. </p><p>When they did end up pulling away from each other, they were both panting. Corey ran a hand up to tangle in Paul’s short curly hair, the bassist's pretty eyes gleaming as his tan hands slid to grope the singer’s ass. The blonde decides to slam their lips back together, moaning into Paul’s mouth, his hips doing their best to grind against the bassist. </p><p>By the time they pulled away again, Corey’s lips were swollen and his eyes were half-lidded, Paul not looking much better, cheeks dusted red, and big dark eyes looking at Corey in a way that made the singer’s guts twist. Now ever more aware of the need stirring in his body, as he felt hands grip at his ass. The singer’s hand snaking down to play with the hem of Paul’s shirt, slight annoyance on his face that the man hadn’t shed any clothes when he himself was complete butt-fucking-naked. Tugging at the hem, Corey mumbled something that sounded like <em> ‘Off’, </em> Which made the other man smile just the tiniest bit. Corey moved back so the bassist could actually pull the long sleeve shirt off, tossing it somewhere, cocking an eyebrow as if to say <em> ‘Happy?’ </em>. Corey smirking at him, reaching out to run fingers over the light caramel skin, fiddling with the beaded necklace that was still hanging around Paul’s neck. It didn’t take too long until Corey got reminded of the current predicament between his legs, shifting uncomfortably and looking back into the bassist's pretty eyes. </p><p>Paul moved to grab something out of the bedside table, Corey only catching a glance at the contents of the drawer until it was closed again, from what he could see it looked like a lot of leather, metal, and things that he did not know that name for but made him blush regardless. Paul had grabbed a small tube of lubricant, squeezing some onto his finger before setting it down beside them and using his other hand to beckon Corey to lean forwards, so the singer was in a more vulnerable position. Arms wrapping loosely around Paul’s neck again and head resting right under the bassist's chin, legs straddling across the dark-haired man’s thighs.  One board hand groping Corey’s ass before spreading him enough for the other hand with slick fingers could glide down, getting the singer to hiss as they rubbed against the tight ring of muscle between his asscheeks. </p><p>Corey gasping as one of the large digits pushed just the tiniest bit into him, but it was enough to make his body overreact and shiver. And no, he was not proud of the breathy moan that bubbled up from his chest when the finger pushed a bit further into him, inching its way in as if Paul was trying to kill him slowly in the best or possibly worst way. </p><p><em> “Faster,” </em>Corey would have slapped the bassist as the man chuckled in response, but he was far too distracted by the finger slamming into him as far as possible at the current angle. Only pausing for a second before curling and rubbing at his insides, as if following his orders to go faster and not stopping until Corey regretted his decision. Which the singer wouldn’t because he was too busy drooling onto Paul’s chest and whimpering as a second, luckily well lubed up, finger pushed against him to join the first. Paul crooning something that made Corey whine and rock his hips, the two fingers buried inside him. The blonde sounded like he was being tortured as the fingers moved nearly all the way out of him, just to sink back in. The bassist’s other hand ghosting up Corey’s spine and tangling in the blonde locks that spilled down over his shoulders, tugging on them so that Corey shifted. The hand knotted in the blonde hair guided his head up so Paul could kiss him again, Corey’s moans swallowed in the bassist's mouth. </p><p> </p><p>The third finger slid agonizingly slowly into the singer, the other two fingers had stopped their movements as Corey made a sound like he was being stabbed unto Paul’s mouth, clutching at the bassist’s broad shoulders. The third digit had settled in him, once again only waiting for a few seconds before pumping slowly inside him. Corey rocking his hips and nipping at Paul’s lip rings, as much as he was fucking<em> loving </em>the fingers buried in him, the burning in his guts was reminding him of how much he really wanted to refresh his memory of the bassist piercings rubbing and teasing his insides. Corey was muttering quietly, whimpering when the fingers left him, but tracing his own hands down the light caramel skin to the bassist's pants, sloppily undoing the fly. Paul watching the singer, his own hands caressing around the blonde’s thighs and hips. </p><p>Corey finally was able to free the bassist's erection, the little low moan the dark-haired man let out made his belly twist, as he ran a finger along the leaking pink head. Tilting his head to the side to study the gleaming piercings that he couldn’t quite all remember from that drunken night in the dingy hotel room. Several barbell piercings lining the underside, one large ring looping vertically through the head, as well as several others that Corey ran tentative fingers over, little sharp gasps from the bassist as Corey touched him. The look of all of them made his muscles twitch, his own dick dripping with precum between his thighs. The feeling of large calloused hands gripping at his hips pulled him out of the trance. Glancing up at Paul, who was chewing on his lip piercings and looking at Corey with those half-lidded chocolate eyes, the blonde letting a low whine of wanting rip from his throat. </p><p>Corey was facing away from Paul, on his knees straddling the bassist’s lap, the hands still on the freckled hips guiding him down. He could feel the cock pressing against him, luckily Paul had decided to drizzle a bit more lube over his dick, though to Corey it didn’t seem to matter. The pierced head daring to push into him, the unusual sensation of the steel ring made him whimper and try to wriggle his hips to sink further down. <em> Agonizingly </em>slow his body was guided down until he was sat, whimpering and cursing, in the bassist’s lap. A long string of very creative curses spilled from Corey’s lips as he breathlessly settled against the dark-haired man, back pressed to the bassist's chest and arms hanging limp at his sides, fingers twitching. </p><p>The cock deep inside him was sending waves of heat through his body, one of the barbell piercings pressed firmly to the bundle of nerves inside him that was making him drool. He could feel the deep breathing of the man behind him, a hand moving from his freckles hip to once again squeeze and massage his chest, teasing the ringed pink bud between rough fingers. In response, Corey ground his hips down to make them both moan, the steel; hard and <em> fucking </em>wonderful against his inner walls. Hips bucking up into Corey, with a low groan from the bassist, painted nails digging into the soft skin of the singer’s hip. </p><p><em> Shit, </em> Paul had barely started to fuck him yet and he was already sounding like a street corner prostitute trying to make her fucking dime. The methodical rolling of Paul’s hips was going to kill him, pleas gurgling up from the blonde’s throat while he felt his body shiver, the heat deep in his guts worming its way through his entire <em> fucking </em>nervous system, making his toes curl and muscles twitch. Corey was mewling Paul’s name while the hand left his hip and trailed in between the singer’s spread thighs, wrapping fingers around the base of the blonde’s dick and squeezing hard enough to make Corey’s eyes roll into the back of his head and shudder in Paul’s grip. </p><p>Breathy moans from the blonde’s mouth were accented by heavy deep groans from the bassist, who was still rolling his hips into Corey with a vengeance, getting a bit faster with the noises the blonde made. Corey’s leg muscles trying to span and lift him off of Paul’s lap in order to try and fuck himself on the bassist’s cock. But he was held firmly in place, he wouldn’t get that relief yet, not until the dark-haired man let him, Corey whining. </p><p>Soft lips were kissing at the side of his neck, the tan hands still working at him as the man grunted against Corey’s skin, the reverberations making the singer’s body twitch. Teeth nipping right under his earlobe, </p><p><em> “Ya’ sound so fuckin’ good, Cor,” </em> The voice was gravelly, low and right next to his ear. Corey made a choked sound, more swears and curses drooling from his lips when the hand on him seemed to double their efforts in making him squirm. Trying again to raise his hips, he found he was able to this time, the bassist no longer stopping the singer as he raised his hips just a few inches and slammed them back down with a loud moan and a strangled <em> ‘Fuck!’.  </em></p><p>Naked skin against naked skin, soft touches, and writhing hot shocks of pleasure as Corey was trying to keep enough brain functions to keep under control of his legs to continue moving his hips up and down. Every time accented by Corey’s voice and curses, Paul whispering filthy things to the blonde, large hands still groping at the smaller man. The idea of going slow anymore was little more than a faraway thought, as Corey repeatedly impaled himself, swearing each time that he could feel the dick all the way in his throat, the piercings grazing at his innards.  </p><p>Paul’s fist tight and fast on Corey’s leaking erection was getting the singer to writhe and shudder even more than he already was, hands scrabbling at anything he could reach and anchor himself down like he was in danger of simply floating away. Nearly screaming when he dropped down into the bassist’s lap one last time, every single muscle in his body tensing and shivering, head dropping back against the other man’s shoulder. Pearly ejaculant coating his belly and Paul’s hand, hips jolting a few times as bliss slapped him in the face. Jaw slack and eyes rolled back in his head, he whimpered as he felt Paul roll his hips. The bassist clutching at Corey and bucking his hips, The singer’s body spanning around him, again and again, pushed him into his own orgasm. Low moans in his throat as his nails dug into the singer’s now highly sensitive chest, screwing his eye shut and losing himself in the constricting and lovely warmth of the other man's body. </p><p>The blonde mewling and arching his back when he felt the bassist thrust’s stutter and sink deep in his guts, searing sticky fluid spilling into him and making him choke out another moan at the sensation. Paul’s hips rolling in his orgasm, piercings rubbing against the slick insides of the singer, grazing over the blonde’s prostate and making the man whimper. Paul’s chest was heaving, arms moving to wrap around the blonde, who had collapsed fully in his lap, panting and mewling out Paul’s name, euphoria still clouding the singer’s eyes as he slowly came down from his high. The both of them not moving for a long while, Corey still trying to remember how to make his limbs work again. The tan fingers back caressing the blonde’s abdomen and thighs, the soft touches making him sleepy, his body already wanting to simply fall asleep in the bassist’s large warm arms, even if he could still feel the ejaculant stirring deep in his guts; the thought making him moan softly. </p><p> </p><p>They did eventually manage to get themselves cleaned up, Paul chuckling as Corey made a displeased squawking sound when he stepped into the shower too early and got blasted with cold water. After the shower, they made their way back to bed. Corey yawning and blinking sleepily as clean sheets were bundled around him, groaning when he was poked to move over because he was hogging the bed. The bassist joining him, hugging Corey to his chest, the blonde turning over in the dark-haired man’s arms so he could kiss the man on the cheek and snuggle to his chest. Tan fingers petting and playing Corey’s hair as the two men cuddled together, the peace and quiet only interrupted by Corey’s quiet whisper. </p><p><em> “Paulie…?” </em>  The bassist humming in response. <em> “Can you get me chicken strips?” </em>The singer’s voice filled with amusement as the dark-haired man above him snorted and tugged teasingly at Corey’s reddish-golden locks, leaning down to kiss the top of the singer’s head. </p><p>
  <em> “Goodnight, Cor,”  </em>
</p><p><em> “G’night, Paulie,” </em>The blonde’s voice muffed in Paul’s chest, giggling a bit before he let his eyes blink closed, a soft smile on his lips. </p>
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<a name="section0010"><h2>10. Broken & Bruised [MOVED]</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>This chapter was moved to my new work 'Broken &amp; Bruised' </p><p>Sorry for the inconvenience!</p>
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<a name="section0011"><h2>11. Ecstasy [Sid & Shawn]</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>A lil AU-ish<br/>Might write a whole thing based on it if i can pick my ass up and actually write</p><p>papa shawn beats people to death</p>
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    <p>Sid had shown up on Shawn’s doorstep again. The young man fidgeting more than usual, playing with the hem of the large ratty hoodie Shawn had given him. Noticing how Sid’s old jacket was held together with duct tape, and deciding that he didn’t want the younger man to freeze to death just yet. Sid had looked at him with large watery eyes after Shawn had shoved the sweatshirt into his arms, insisting that he take it. The younger man stuttered out a ‘<em> thank you’ </em>, the clown helping him slip it on and watching as Sid hugged himself, no longer freezing his ass off in the cold Iowan night. Shawn hadn’t seen the man take the thing off unless it was absolutely necessary, the fabric draping over him and making the Dj look skinnier than he already was. </p><p>And now Shawn was back looking at the man on his pouch, shoulder-length chestnut hair poking out from the hood that was pulled over his head. <em> He looked adorable </em> . Shawn tried to shoo that particular thought away. He already was starkly protective over the younger man, couldn’t go catching feelings just yet. <em> Even if the clown knew that the last part was a lie he told himself just to stay comfortable.  </em></p><p>He had glanced around the street before letting Sid in, the Dj scampering in, his breath a little uneven with his eyes darting around like a wounded animal. Shawn cocked an eyebrow, noticing how the Dj was pressing one of his arms to his right side, his body hunched over a bit. </p><p>“What’s wrong, Sid?” </p><p>“Yeah, I-uhh, could I ha-” Sid took a deep breath as Shawn approached and set a hand on the shivering Dj’s shoulder. “S-hawn, do ya’ ha-ave bandages or s-somthin’?” The Dj’s flecked green eyes darting around and refusing to meet Shawn’s gaze. It sounded like Sid was going to choke out a <em> ‘Nevermind’ </em>before Shawn grunted, taking the Dj’s other hand, which had started to fiddle with the hoodie's drawstring. Shawn led the Dj up the house's rickety stairs, the carpet old and worn, Sid stumbling a bit and refusing to take his eyes off the floor. The bathroom light flicked on, Shawn helping Sid onto the counter next to the sink and leaning down to rummage in a cabinet for the medical kit which he always made a point of keeping around. Sid was still shifting nervously and swinging his legs like a child who just got caught scribbling swear words on their desk in school, Shawn laying a hand on the Dj’s thigh and squeezing once, which made Sid freeze. The clown turned back to open up the medkit to lay some of the contents out on the counter. Grabbing a bottle of antiseptic out of the cabinet too just to be safe. The younger man was still frozen when Shawn looked back up at him, hands clutching at the edge of the counter, white-knuckled. </p><p><em> “Off, “ </em>Sid’s eye snapped up to meet Shawn’s, not moving, eyebrows furrowing a bit, “Off with the hoodie, Ratboy,” The younger man only taking a second before scrambling to get the thing off, taking care to sloppily fold it and set it next to him. Shawn’s gaze running over the Dj's skinny torso and zeroing in on the reddish-brown stain that was marking the right side of the younger man’s tank top. Shawn motioning for the man to also strip off the dirty tank top, which he did. And no, Shawn definitely didn’t take a few more seconds than he should have running his eyes across the Dj’s freckled skin, which was littered with various scars and faded bruises. Only focusing again when the Dj made a small noise of pain and clenched his jaw, shifting uncomfortably under the clown's sharp gaze. </p><p>Shawn moved to get a better look at the man’s side, lifting the Dj’s arm out of the way. The man’s side an ugly bruised mess, a few scabs peeling off the irritated skin. But most obviously was a few strips of duct tape crisscrossed right under the Dj’s ribs, holding a wad of bloodied napkins to the skin. Shawn looked back up at Sid as if asking for an explanation, only getting a whimper in response, the man avoiding the clown's eyes again. The edge of one of the strips of duct tape had come loose, half hanging off the freckled skin. Shawn sighed. </p><p>Luckily, Sid’s skin was a bit sweaty and the adhesive on the duct tape was degrading, Shawn able to gradually peel it off without taking too much of the Dj’s skin with it. Then they were left with the napkins that were still partially stuck to the man’s wounded side. Sid mumbled obscenities while the impromptu bandages were removed. Shawn was left staring, he’d seen worse, <em> much </em>worse, but the small pang in his heart persisted as he could finally see the Dj’s wounded side. </p><p>The skin was slashed, not deep but messily, clearly with an unsharpened blade. Flesh torn, dried blood crusting around the edges of the wounded, fresh crimson oozing slowly due to the removal of the napkins, some thin paper residue still sticking to the cuts. The younger man’s whole side an ugly mix of blood and bruises and torn skin. Shawn could feel that strong protective feeling welling in his chest, a simmering rage building behind his sharp blue eyes as he reached a hand out to cup Sid’s chin. The Dj’s messy hair falling in his face, whole body trembling, tears pricking in the green eyes from the pain, not to mention the bit of shame that clawed at his chest.</p><p><em> “Who did this to you?” </em> </p><p>Sid was a teary whimpering mess, face buried in Shawn’s chest, arms tight around the clown as he trembled and tried to suck in breaths of air. Shawn’s arms holding the Dj’s close, a hand petting through the tangled chestnut hair. The Dj’s side had been disinfected, stitched up, and bandaged. Though the bruises still painted his skin, and the lack of proper medical equipment had made the whole process excruciating for the Dj. Shawn had taken pity on him though, leaving for a second to retrieve something which he gave to the Dj; who stuttered out a thanks before tossing it down his throat and swallowing. </p><p><em> “Don’t worry, Sid,” </em> Shawn’s voice was low, though it still had an edge of anger, “It’ll kick in soon,” The man groaned into Shawn’s chest, a muffled reply of <em> ‘Hurts’ </em> making Shawn’s face twitch, anger boiling under his skin. Not at the Dj, but at the people who had hurt him. The clown knew, in the parts of his mind that were rational, that he shouldn’t be this angry. After all, the Dj wasn't dead; but he’d been hurt. <em> And it pissed Shawn off in a way he’d only experienced a few times. And all of those times never ended well. </em></p><p>Sid’s body had relaxed, his arms still loose around Shawn until the clown pulled away, a small unconscious noise of sadness from the younger man. The Dj’s half-lidded groggy eyes blinked as he was lifted off the bathroom counter, head against the clown’s shoulder with strong arms holding him. The Dj’s world was a bit fuzzy around the edges, he could feel himself being set down on a bed, the blankets soft. They smelled like Shawn, and it made Sid smile lopsidedly, cuddling into the softness all around him. Eyes falling shut as the warm feeling of fingers caressing the side of his face made him forget about anything else. Though much to his disappointment the fingers stopped their comforting touches, instead, feeling the blankets being swaddled around him. It had been a long time since he’d slept in a bed so soft, drowsiness already swallowing him up, and he wasn't going to fight it. </p><p>Shawn looked over the bed, Sid curled into the blankets, hair in a halo around his head, body lithe and pretty. The boy looked so soft and heavenly Shawn wanted to lay down and sleep with him forever. <em> But he couldn’t </em>, not when freckled skin had been marked with bruises and cuts from people who, in Shawn’s mind, needed to pay a price. The clown closed the door, making sure not to make too much noise as he padded down to the kitchen. Sitting heavily in one of the wooden kitchen chairs, the single light illuminating the room, casting dark shadows on the man’s face as he dug a phone out a pocket, dialing a number and holding it up to his ear as it rang. A static garbled voice on the other end. </p><p>
  <em> “Clown?”  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>The sound of a baseball bat cracking against bone echoed through the basement. A muffled scream followed. A boot was ground against the broken leg, crushing the splintering bone, making the gagged man writhe and groan against the wet bloodied concrete of the basement floor. Another swing of the bat against the man’s side accompanied by a sickening crunch of ribs breaking. The bat about to be brought down again when a loud rang through the basement, </p><p><em> “Oi! Clown! Yer boy’s lookin’ for yah,” </em> Shawn delivered a final hard kick to the man sprawled out in front of him on the dirty floor. Tossing the baseball bat to one of the other men standing by, muttering <em> ‘Clean up and wait,’ </em>as he stalked up the stairs of the basement. The other men in the basement moved quickly to gather up the three prone and broken bodies off the floor.  </p><p>The basement door was held open for Shawn. Seeing Sid looking wholly and utterly confused near the door of the room as he emerged from the basement. Looking Shawn up and down, noticing the blood on his clothes and the clown mask covering his head, Sid bowing his head just a bit and looking nervous. The younger man had stolen one of Shawn’s hoodies from the back of the bedroom door and had very clearly woken up very recently, the clown silently hoping he hadn’t been the reason for the boy’s awakening. </p><p>Shawn nodded his head at the man who had held the basement door, who disappeared down the stairs and left the two of them alone. The clown approached Sid, who looked a bit skittish, the older man tugging off the bloody gloves and reaching out to pet the side of Sid’s head, running fingers through the messy hair. </p><p><em> “Sleep okay, Sidney?” </em> The Dj nodding, still tracing his eyes over the clown mask that hid Shawn’s face. “Did we wake you up?” The Dj nodding again, hesitant as his eyes dropped to the floor. A sigh from the clown, <em> “Let’s get you back to bed, Okay?” </em>Shawn was smiling, though he knew Sid couldn’t see it. Leading the Dj back up the stairs and into the bedroom. Watching as Sid stripped off the hoodie and crawled into the bed snuggling back into the blankets, shooting a look back at Shawn. The clown moved to sit on the edge of the bed and run fingers along Sid’s bare back, the Dj making a happy purring sound as he closed his eyes and relaxed into the touches.  The mask was moved up, the man leaning down to kiss Sid’s cheek before pulling it into place, </p><p><em> “I’ll be back in a second, baby,” </em>Sid’s blushing face buried itself in the blankets as the clown chuckled quietly, petting the chestnut hair one more time before standing to leave the room. Pulling the gloves back on as he exited the room, cracking his knuckles as he strolled down the stairs and back into the basement.  </p><p> </p><p>Sid’s face was still blushed and buried in the blankets when Shawn got back. The clown stripped off his gloves, which were substantially more bloody than before, quickly changing into clean ones. The Dj not moving, only making a small noise as he felt the clown sit on the edge of the bed next to him. The tips of the younger man’s ears were still a flushed pink, which made Shawn smile, petting down the Dj’s spine, tracing eyes over the freckled body. </p><p>Sid was laying on his belly, legs tangled in the blankets, worn sweatpants, and boxers riding low on his narrow hips. The bandages and bruises that marked his skin made Shawn’s heart twist, but he’d made those fuckers pay tenfold for hurting poor Sidney. A spark of amused contentment in his chest, <em> He’d showed those fucking bastards. </em>  Reaching out a finger to trace a small tattoo on the back of the freckled shoulder, the Dj shifting a bit, turning his head so he could peer up at Shawn. Pretty pale green eyes with blue flecks looking sleepy and. . . <em> cute </em>. Shawn let out a small exhale of amusement, he’d promised himself not to catch feelings a long time ago, and here he was. Sitting next to a boy he’d only regarded as little more than a young cheap druggie looking for a quick fix not even four months ago, who was now snuggled in his bed, looking up at Shawn with big pretty eyes and soft brown hair that made the clown’s cold dead heart melt. </p><p>“Feelin’ better?” Sid made an <em> ‘mhm’ </em> sound, shifting as Shawn brushed fingers up to play with the Dj’s hair, “Did the oxi help?” Another <em> ‘mhm’, </em>Sid’s eyes falling shut. A look of relief passing over Shawn, eyes studying the lines of the younger man’s face with the smattering of freckles across his nose. Not paying attention to Sid’s hand, which had snaked up to pull at the fabric of the clown’s shirt, the Dj’s eye cracking open to look up at the clown with a small bit of nervous confidence, words quiet on his lips, </p><p><em> “Cuddle?” </em>It’s not like Shawn could have said no. </p><p> </p><p>Sid was snuggled up to Shawn’s chest, the clown’s hands ghosting up and down the Dj’s bare back, careful to avoid any areas that might hurt the younger man. The blankets tangled around them, breathing nearly synced up as they relaxed in each other's arms. Though Shawn could sense that the Dj was thinking hard about something, the clown always had a good intuition about that kind of thing. </p><p><em> “I can hear your brain ticking, Sid, </em>” Sid made a small noise into Shawn’s chest. The clown petting the top of the Dj’s head, humming as he waited for the younger man to mumble something coherent. </p><p>“S-Shawn?” The clown hummed, “What w-ere y-, “ Sid made an annoyed sound like his mouth wasn't following orders from his brain, <em> “What were you doing in the b-basement?” </em> Shawn smiled, sucking air through his teeth.</p><p>“Taking care of business,” A small exacerbated noise, Shawn chuckling, “All you need to know is that they’ll <em>never</em> hurt you again,” A small <em>‘O-oh,’ </em>slipped from Sid’s lip, Shawn’s word confirming what he had guessed, though the young Dj didn’t think the man cared for him that much. The clown moved down to kiss the top of Sid’s head, noticing the younger man’s arms wrapping a little tighter around him, the clown smiling softly and running fingers through the chestnut hair. </p><p>He may be heartless, but Sid had stolen it regardless. </p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>hJheheoooOO yeah :)</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0012"><h2>12. So, you wanna be in the band? [Sid & Shawn]</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>for @ vvirusoflife on tumblr<br/>i have more requests to do too, try to write em as timely as possible, but you know me [winks aggressively]<br/>anyway</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Sid was nervously tapping his fingers against the textured fabric of his baggy jeans. Picking at a loose thread at a seam and pulling it free. The Dj making an annoyed grunting sound when the van sped over a bum, jostling him and forcing his shoulder to collide with the stacks of speakers next to him. The equipment stuffed in the back of the vehicle daring to all come down in a mass of armageddon. Sid honestly would have complained about being forced to sit in the back if not for the driver then he definitely<em> totally </em> wasn't still skittish and a bit afraid of. <em> Nope. </em> The Dj slumping down on the bench seat lining either side of the van, propping his feet up on the free space opposite him and glaring out of the corner of his eye towards the driver's seat. He’d first been stuffed into the back of the <em> ‘not-allowed-near-preschools’ </em>scrappy white vehicle from some club where he’d been Djing and chatting up some pretty blonde who looked half like a knockoff barbie and half like a chew toy. Take that how you wish. Sid had been abruptly pulled aside by Joey, dragged out of the club while the short drummer he’d barley known a little more than two weeks on a semi-personal level briefly introduced him to the man who was currently driving and had just taken a sharp left into a dingy street the middle of butt-fuck nowhere outside of Des Moine. </p><p>Sid just barely caught the flash of gauze and stitches in the rearview mirror. A feeling twisting in the Dj’s gut. <em> He </em> had done that. To be fair it had been spur of the moment-madness combined with the energy of the club when he’d climbed up onto the stage littered with wires and fire and all manner of things that had no business at a show. <em> Well, </em> it was a slipknot show. Which was probably the reason Sid hadn’t been dragged out by the cops after slamming the-one-and-only Clown’s face <em> six </em> bloody times into one of the metal kegs lining the set. He hadn’t been sure if he’d broken the man’s nose at the time, he hadn’t cared. His veins fueled with adrenaline and fire as the masked-up blood-covered man fought back, earning Sid his own set of head injuries and bruises. <em> It had been great. </em></p><p>Unfortunately, he’d never got the chance to see the damage nor to apologize. But the clown hadn’t seemed angry. More thrilled than anything. Sid shivered as he remembered the look that glinted sharp as glass in the man’s eyes when he’d stood; Blood seeping from under his mask, overalls dirty, hand flexing, and eyes shining out from under the thin rubber of his clown mask. The Dj was only slightly ashamed when he’d gone home that night and desperately jerked himself off. Half convincing himself it had <em> totally </em> been to the porn mags he’d hidden under his bed. <em> Yeah. </em>Then again it had been harder to justify the second time when he’d dared to do it again. This time pressing fingers into the bruises marking up the flesh of his ribs where the man had kicked him. </p><p>The van finally settling to a stop got Sid to escape from inside his own head, quelling the warmth that had misguidedly started to gather in his lower belly. The Dj heard the engine shut off, a car door creak open. A small part of him joking that the man was going to murder him. Honestly, it wouldn't be a surprise, from the rumors and stories about Shawn <em> fucking </em> Crahan; the man could be the next Pogo The Clown, and Sid wouldn’t bat an eye. The Dj raising a hand to run through some of his bleach-strung hair, pulling at a stand that had come loose from the greasy ponytail, though he didn’t care; he’d been planning to shave it all off anyway. The back door of the van swung open. Sid cocked an eyebrow as the older man climbed inside, luckily not holding a crowbar or other instrument of demise. Though at this point the Dj figured that the man probably didn’t want him dead, <em> probably.  </em></p><p>The Dj scrambled back up in his seat, moving his legs out of the way before the older man could sit on them. Sitting half properly for once, and trying to take up the least amount of space possible as the other man settled across from him. The back of the already cramped van seemed even more so now, not to mention that Sid also had to deal with the new and devastating effects of the man’s sharp eyes locked on him. Sid had never considered himself <em> timid </em> but at this point, he’d rather cut out his own tongue than speak first. Eyes darting nervously around the van, his leg bouncing, and other hand reaching up out of habit to fiddle with one of the steel chains he had on, fingers clasping briefly at a small silver cross affixed to one of them. <em> Oh Lord, above I pray. </em>Sid snorted out a light laugh just under his breath. His green eyes finally flicked up to look at the man sat across from him. The bridge of his nose had stitches lining it, matching with his left eyebrow. Just the slightest tinge of purple that Sid could make out in the darkness of the van ringing the man’s eye. Sid quickly averted his gaze back to the floor, the silence was deafening, the man across from him leaning forward just the smallest bit. </p><p>The back of the van door was still left a bit open, the cold air of the evening outside nipping at the bare skin of Sid’s arms, causing the Dj to shrink into himself just the smallest bit; his fingers back to picking at the fabric of his pants. From what he could see outside there were a few trees and the illumination of street lamps. If Sid had to guess they were probably behind a gas station or something; though this late at night the likelihood of anyone coming up and asking why they were parked here was next to zero. </p><p>“So,” The man’s voice was gravelly. Sid daring to look up at him again, <em> “You DJ?” </em>The Dj's green eyes lit up, a grin couldn’t help but worm its way on his lips. </p><p>“Yup,” Sid left out a snort of nervous laughter, “Y’know, scratching, jungle style n’ all that,” Carefully watching as the man across from him nodded, pulling something from his pocket. Picking out a cigarette from the pack and raising it to hold between his teeth. Lighting it quickly with the flick of a lighter. The man didn’t offer Sid one, and the Dj didn’t ask. Only watching as the smoke curled up to the ceiling of the van. </p><p>“Wanna be in the band?” It wasn't really a question, they both knew the answer. If it had been anything else Sid wouldn’t have gotten into the back of the car with the clown. Another puff of smoke curled up to the ceiling, some of it escaping out of the door. Sid’s body relaxing just the smallest bit, his back setting against the wall of the van, arms folded in front of him, leg just barely bouncing up and down. “Practices are usually at Paul’s house,” The clown cocked an eyebrow, judging Sid’s response of vague confusion. “Bassist, guy with the pig mask. I’ll give you his number later,” Sid’s mouth went into a small ‘o’ as his memory flickered to life before he nodded. “Bring your shit, and we’ll see what you can add,” A knot of anxiety-ridden-thrill build in the Dj’s gut, muttering <em> ‘cool’ </em> under his breath. Shawn snorted, sucking in another lungful of nicotine. This time the grayish smoke breathed-out from his nose. Some of the ash from the end falling to the van’s floor. <em> “Any questions?” </em> Sid twitched nervously, like he’d just been called on in math class and hadn’t been paying attention for the last 15 minutes. </p><p>“Not really, <em> nah, </em>I mean--,” A bit of heat rose on the Dj’s face, his tongue was a bit tied. His voice tinged with a jittery laugh. “You ain’t gonna kill me, right?” Shawn’s eyebrows raised for a second, the clown barking out a laugh. </p><p>“Not planning on it,” The man still half chuckling, the atmosphere of the van lightening a bit even if Sid didn’t quite believe that the man wasn't still capable of murder. The young Dj snickering and shifting in his seat, the thought of the older man’s hands around his throat strangling the breath out of him flickering briefly across his mind. Neglecting to notice that his body seemed almost excited, <em> much too excited, </em> about the idea. Luckily for him, the baggy clothes he was wearing hid everything from view, plus the absence of light in the back of the van, but nonetheless his face went a little more pink. Letting out another nervous titter. Sid rocking back and forth, his eyes flicking around again. The Dj almost daring to speak again, before Shawn grunted. The man leaning forward just a bit, more of his features illuminated, some of the staples in his skin catching the light. Sid swallowed, finally getting his tongue to work. </p><p>“Y’know, <em> uhh-- </em>sorry, about those,” The younger man raised a hand to gesture to his own nose.  watching as the other man’s lip was tugged up into what could have been called the mildest of smiles. </p><p>“ ‘s fine,” Shawn took another draw off his cigarette, <em> “Was fun,” </em>The bit of heat that had been growing in Sid’s face only got hotter. “I know you got a few good ones too,” The Dj couldn’t help the impish grin that tugged at his lips, </p><p>“Yeah, <em> yeah,” </em> The air of the van seemed less cold now. “Was kinda fun,” Shawn cast him another small smile, the man holding the half-smoked cigarette between his fingers, more of the ash falling to the floor. Sid at this point couldn’t ignore the way his body was reacting, despite how much he was trying to hold himself together, the knot of anxiety and fire in his belly was threatening to make him do something stupid. And lord help him if he had poor impulse control sometimes. </p><p><em> “Sidney,” </em> Ah, <em> fuck. </em> He wasn't even aware the man knew his full name, and the way he was doing it sent a shiver down Sid’s spine. His leg, which had been bouncing up and down like his life depended on it, had frozen. The Dj making a grunting noise that sounded something like <em> ‘yeah?’ </em> in response. Locking his eyes on a particular coil of smoke that was rising from the clown’s lips. Trying to utterly distract himself, and failing. <em> “Look at me,” </em> Green eyes immediately snapping to the clown, who hummed under his breath. Dropping the rest of his cigarette onto the floor and grinding out the ash with the sole of his boot. Sid’s eyes daring to flick down and watch for a second. Taking in the detail that the clown was wearing sturdy black work boots, the kind someone wears when they want to stomp in someone's head. The Dj’s gaze flickering up again, his mind going just a tiny bit more haywire.  <em> “You know how to suck dick?” </em>Sid’s whole face when a shade that could only be described as fire-engine-red. </p><p>“W-<em> what?”  </em></p><p><em> “You heard me,” </em>The sneer on Shawn’s face didn’t reach his eyes, still intent on studying the way Sid was squirming in his seat; green eyes wide and hands knotted in the fabric of his baggy jeans.  </p><p><em> “I do-n’t-- I mean-n,” </em> Sid swallowed hard, <em> “Guess so.” </em> Shawn snorted at the Dj’s response, eyebrows raised. Sid’s face only going a deep shade of red when he realized what he’d just admitted, <em> well, </em> more lied about. But then again his brain still wasn't <em> really </em>focussing on anything besides the way one of Shawn’s hands was resting on a thigh, thick fingers tapping slowly against the fabric of the clown’s pant leg. The Dj couldn’t help but squirm in his seat again; only half aware of the man across from him humming softly. </p><p><em> “Well?” </em>Before Sid could truly process what his body was doing, he’d slipped off the bench. His knees colliding with the floor, a grunt of pain from his chest. He was already practically in between the Clown’s thighs, but that didn’t stop Sid from shuffling just a little bit closer. He still wasn't entirely sure what he was doing, but Shawn didn’t look like he was going to stop him. Instead, the clown reached out a hand to cradle Sid’s chin. A thumb moving over the Dj’s lower lip, then diving in a little deeper to settle between Sid’s teeth. Forcing the younger man’s mouth further open. Sid whined, his tongue darting forward to lick along the side of the thumb before the clown retracted his hand. The older man let out a satisfied huff. Sid practically cross-eyed as he stared at the very obvious erection straining against the fabric of the man’s pants. One of his hands daring to reach up and settle on the clown’s thigh, dangerously close to the man’s dick. </p><p>The Dj’s whole body trembling, his other hand moving in between his own thighs to palm at his dick. The clown watching him with a still raised eyebrow, just a hint of amusement on his face. The fingers of Sid’s hand still placed on the man’s thigh move closer, hovering just over the zipper. The Dj casting a nervous look upwards before tugging it down; using a trembling hand to reach into the confines of the clown’s pants and pull out the erection. <em> Because why would Shawn wear boxers? </em> The Dj huffing out a breath as the quip crossed his mind, but then he immediately refocused on the dick. It was dreadfully warm in his hand. And Sid’s brain was short-circuiting as he studied it; his lips parted and drool gathering in his mouth. One of Shawn’s hands moved to the side of the Dj’s head, tangling in the stringy poorly bleached hair, tugging more of its out of the loose ponytail as he encouraged the younger man closer. Sid still not fully in control of himself as he was shifted forward, the dick just about to graze against his lower lip. The hand he had around the base of it tightening slightly, the clown grunting. Which finally snapped Sid back into some sort of reality. The Dj making a soft sound in the back of his throat, rocking back and forth on his knees. Glancing up at Shawn again as his hand tentatively moved around the cock; feeling it twitch in his palm. Sid whimpered, his hand squeezing hard at his own dick still trapped in his jeans. Daring to stick out his tongue and trail it up through the slit in the head of Shawn’s dick. It was a trick the Dj had learned a while ago, <em> well, </em> he’d never done it to anyone else but <em> y’know. </em> It seemed to feel just as good to the clown, who grunted. The hand tangled in Sid’s hair tugging him forward again. </p><p>He could hear Shawn mumble something, but Sid was much too distracted to care as he rubbed his tongue over the underside of the dick, repeatable tonguing up the slit and stroking the base. Taking in a deep breath through his nose before opening his mouth wider so the tip of the cock could settle inside. Another harsh grunt from Shawn got Sid to tremble, trying harder to get the clown to make noise again. Taking more into his mouth, he could already feel his gag reflex protesting but he didn’t care. It wasn't that bad, and it's not like he hadn’t dreamed of this same thing. Sid blushing and whimpering when he felt Shawn’s hand tightening in his hair, pulling at the strands. Drool dribbling down his chin, his body still trembling badly as he swallowed. His tongue pressing the dick to the roof of his mouth. His gag reflex protesting again as the cock finally grazed against the back of his throat, the Dj moaning; throat contracting. More drool dripping off his chin. The taste of precum salty on his tongue. Green eyes going cross when the clown wrenched him closer, gag reflex making his throat span hard around the dick shoved into it. Sid choked; though he only struggled for a second. Almost ashamed to admit that his own dick only got harder as he felt the intrusion in his throat and the hand knotted in his hair. Sid felt his chest swell with a small bit of pride as Shawn grunted, forcing his dick even further down the Dj’s tightening esophagus. But then again the Dj couldn’t really focus on much else.  </p><p>Finally, Sid’s nose was buried in the older man’s pubic hair. Forehead pressed to the man’s stomach, hand having left the base of the man’s dick and now grasping at a pant leg. Clinging onto it for dear life as he choked again. The dick was choking him, all the way down his throat, and at the moment the Dj was losing his mind. Sid could tell he was already probably embarrassing himself, but he didn’t care; eyes rolled back in his head, jaw already starting to get sore, and hand grabbing hard at his own dick through the jeans. <em> Fuck. </em>His vision going a bit blurry, Sid finally realizing that he did indeed need oxygen; tugging at the clown's pant leg and trying his best to make a whining sound around the cock. Not that it really helped, if anything the vibrations of the sounds he was making only encouraged the older man to hold him steady for a few more moments until he finally took pity on the poor Dj and let the man pull back. Sid gurgled, barely focusing on anything as he panted for air. A string of milky precum dripping from his lip. The hand he had once knotted in the clown’s pant leg, loosening its grip slightly. Though Sid pushed into the clown’s hand which was still tangled in his hair. Sid made something like a purring noise when he finally recovered enough oxygen in his lungs to form a coherent thought. Which was, with his luck, just the need for the man’s dick to be back in his mouth. Sid’s face still flushed a blotchy pink. </p><p>Leaning forward again to take the cock back between his lips. Sid moaned when he felt the thing twitch on his tongue. He could feel the hand in his hair just slightly tighten its grip when he started to suck, his tongue pressing to the underside of the dick. Shawn grunting again, slightly less in control than before as Sid’s teeth just barely grazed against him. Which he was sure the Dj wasn’t on purpose but god <em> damn </em>did it feel good. He could tell Sid hadn’t had much practice sucking cock, but hell if the Dj wasn't already good at it. Just by the way Sid’s face looked, with drool smeared all over his stretched lips and eyes a sea-glass green. Shawn already knew the younger man was going to be the death of him. Speaking of the death of him, Sid had apparently decided to try and choke himself again. The Dj sucking hard trying his best to take more of the dick into his throat. A few failed attempts before he finally got it. Gagging and moaning as he heard Shawn breathing hard above him. The clown’s breathing labored, though Sid could catch a string of muttered curses.  </p><p><em> “Fuck, fuck, good boy, Sidney, g-good boy, ” </em>The clown only continued to grunt and curse, but the younger man between his thighs froze for a second before trembling with a gurgling needy moan rising from his chest. Words like that had never really had an effect on him, at least not like this. His stomach was doing flips and his dick was throbbing painfully hard. His hand palming at it certainly wasn't enough but Sid could only focus on one thing at a time, and currently, that was trying not to choke to death. Shawn had started to lazily buck into his mouth. Both of the clown’s hands now tangled and holding at Sid’s head. Allowing the man to fuck into the Dj’s throat. Sid squeezing his eyes shut, trying to relax as the clown’s rhythm increased. Finally burning himself as deep as possible in the feverish warmth of the man’s esophagus. A deep rumbling groan from the clown’s chest. Holding Sid's head as close as possible, not at all doubting that he probably was pulling out some of the man’s hair. </p><p>Sid couldn’t process a single thing but the feeling of something warm rushing down his throat. The Dj’s eyes went a bit wide, he couldn’t breathe and was very much not in the mood to die at the moment no matter how appealing the idea was especially if it was Shawn who would be the reason. If he could have made noise he would have, but instead, the Dj was reduced to trying to swallow hard around the cock and trembling so hard he was sure it looked like he was having a seizure. He was finally pulled back, the dick tugged from his mouth. Sid gasped in a breath of air, which was a poor decision. Choking hard on the cum sticking in his throat as he made what could have been described as something like a burping sound. The substance choked up into his mouth and dribbled from his lips in pearly strings. Though at least now the Dj could breathe, his mouth hanging open and eyes half-lidded. Shawn’s hand had moved to cradle the Dj’s face, slightly squishing his cheeks as thumbs grazed over his cheekbones. The clown was still breathing heavily, and his hands were a bit unsteady, but he couldn’t stop staring at Sid. Who looked completely out of it. The Dj’s arms fell weakly to his sides as he panted for more air, face relaxing.  </p><p>The piercing blue eyes of the clown narrowing for a second in thought before he moved. One of his legs shifted until his boot was shoved in between the Dj’s thighs, though the younger man didn't protest. The sole of the boot pressed right against Sid’s groin. Which made the man whimper and buck his hips into the pressure. Sid couldn’t help it. He wasn't going to lie and say that he’d ever before been forced to rut against someone’s boot to get off, but Jesus fucking<em> christ </em> if that was going to stop him now. The combination of the taste of ejackulant coating his tongue, his jaw already aching sore and Shawn above him whimpering something under his breath that Sid couldn’t quite put together but sounded like praise. Was putting the Dj over the edge. Completely ignoring anything but grinding his painfully hard dick against any pressure he could get. His boxers scratchy and confining, everything was on the verge of hurting. Not that Sid cared. Keening loudly and letting a thick string of drool drip from his lips, tongue lulling from the side of his mouth. </p><p>Green eyes blurry as they stared unfocused up at Shawn, who had leaned down; ever so slightly smiling as he watched Sid get closer and closer to his own peak. The Dj desperately grinding his hips against the boot, his mouth trying and failing to form any coherent words as he panted; definitely not opposed to it when the boot pressed harder against him, even if it sent a shock of pain through him. Sid whined in a begging pain. The embarrassment of the whole situation was nagging at him, but at the moment he couldn’t care. He was so very very close, and he couldn’t call it quits now. </p><p>Sid made a noise like a dying animal, his whole body jolting. A long whine from his gurgling throat. Green eyes going cross as he shivered. The sickeningly hot knot in his belly that had been building finally exploded and caused his mind to go completely blank. Blood rushing loud in his ears. Suddenly the idea that he would probably have rug burn on his dick was completely worth it. Sticky ejaculant coating the insides of his thighs and soaking into his boxers. The Dj almost falling if not for the hands on his face keeping him upright, though he still couldn’t control his arms or legs, which at this point had gone numb. The afterglow of the orgasm making his head all foggy. Sid couldn’t help but grin, all lopsided and drooly but certainly a grin. His eyes finally focused enough to look back at Shawn, who was looking at him with a small half-smile. But it was enough to make Sid burp out a giggling noise. Which was only slightly gross. The boot pressing in between his thighs finally moved away, even as Sid whined, shifting his hips into a slightly more comfortable position. The clown’s hands were still cradling Sid’s face, thumbs over his cheekbones. Sid couldn’t help giggling like a drunken school girl again, purring out a string of gibberish. Which only made Shawn snort, leaning back until he sat upright again, one of his hands moving away from Sid’s face and the other guiding the younger man’s head to rest against a thigh. Some of the spit and cum smear on the clown’s pant leg, but he didn’t care much. Especially not when Sid burbled and nuzzled against him. One of the clown’s hands still petting at the side of the Dj’s face, brushing away some of the bleached hair. </p><p>Despite everything Sid certainly seemed happy, if not a bit out of it. But that only made Shawn snort with a bit of amusement. The young Dj was certainly <em> something </em>. The older of the pair making a low rumbling noise in his chest, just loud enough to draw Sid’s attention. </p><p><em> “You still want in?” </em> It took a moment for Sid to understand what the man was asking, but then the Dj nodded. Maybe a little too quickly as his vision went wonky for a second. Shawn grunted, caressing his fingers along the Dj’s jaw, tilting the younger man’s face up, even if it was still resting against his thigh. <em> “Think you’ll do great,” </em>Sid burled again, a lopsided impish grin in reply. Shawn petted at his jaw again as Sid tried to keep his eyes open. Maybe now he could ask Shawn for a cigarette, hell if he needed one. The muscles in his neck and jaw starting to ache. Sid whimpering. This certainly hadn’t been the wrist night of his life.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>sid is a goblin agagagag</p><p>yeah<br/>papa shawn</p>
        </blockquote><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>[Sorry for any spelling/grammar mistakes]<br/>[ Feel free to Request Anything, Don't Feel Ashamed. ]</p></blockquote></div></div>
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